


Not As You Know Them

by Jakaboi



Series: Protection Verse [6]
Category: Markiplier Egos, Natewantstobattle Egos, Sanders Sides (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye egos - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Egos AU, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Protection Verse, sanders sides au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-08 17:13:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 142
Words: 91,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakaboi/pseuds/Jakaboi
Summary: Dark found them, he's brought them together under one roof, he's offered them all the same protection from some unknown threat. But they're all strange, unique people and other troubles are not far behind.How long can Dark really keep them safe?Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, and Natewantstobattle egos, but Not As You Know Them





	1. Bing

**Author's Note:**

> The egos are not characters, they are individuals who have been gathered by Dark under one roof for reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All you need to understand is that Bing moved into the building in the last 12-18 months and that he's a cyborg, though Dark is the only one who knows at the start of this chapter.

Bing is a lousy droid - Fact.

Not only is he undeniably inferior at many basic functions that come so much easier to Google, he’s far too upbeat, tends to be hyperactive, spends too much time on that dang skateboard, the droid’s systems are way too slow, and he takes an age to charge. Despite Google’s repeated insistence that none of them need Bing, Dark frequently shuts down his protests and says that Bing is staying.

Google has deemed that letting Bing know just how aggravating he finds the inferior droid is worth less than looks of disdain and grunts of disapproval when their paths cross. Still Bing doesn’t seem to get the idea, and every time he continues to give a wave and that weird greeting.

Google’s brothers are a little more tolerant of Bing, though not by much. So it’s they who start to notice something off about him.

Red mostly just says no to whatever stupid new dangerous activity Bing is wanting to check out. This week it’s BMX, last week it was abseiling, next week it could well be sky-diving. It makes no sense that a droid would be that intent on putting itself into such dangerous situations. He doesn’t notice initially that Bing has stopped approaching him, eventually realising that the last time Bing suggested some activity was a good few weeks ago.

Green often assists Dr Iplier in his clinic, and one day, he enters to find Bing speaking with the doc in hushed voices, though he soon shuts up when he realises they aren’t alone. Dr Iplier doesn’t realise and promises that he’ll ask Schneeplestein but that Bing should assume the answer is no. Once Bing has left, Green asks what that had been about but the doc just claims doctor-patient confidentiality and says nothing.

Oliver is the closest with Bing, the two of them actually getting on quite well, though Google still doesn’t understand it. The yellow droid and Bing often watch TV, or hang out in the garden or go for mini-adventures (nothing life-threatening).So when he searches everywhere for the orange droid, only to find the guy still in bed barely moving or responding, of course he’s worried. At first he thinks it might be a charging issue but Bing kind of half wakes up and insists it isn’t, before he asks to be given some time to just rest.

The three of them take their concerns to Google who reminds them that Bing isn't like them. He's an inferior machine and is distracting them from their objectives. It isn’t until he's passing Bing’s room and he can hear muted sobs that his own curiosity gets the better of him and he goes in to investigate.

Bing is sat on the edge of his bed, cradling his right arm that looks like it’s shut down, a bit too stiff and still. Sure enough Bing is crying, though as soon as he sees Google coming in, he gives this big fake smile as though he doesn’t look like death.

The two of them stay like this for a moment or two, Google in the doorway, Bing on the bed. Having satisfied his curiosity, Google starts to leave, stopping because Bing calls out to him, asking him for help.

Bing admits he isn’t actually a droid powered by the search engine Bing. His real name is Ashley Bingham. Bing was a childhood nickname that’s always stuck. When he was in his late teens, he was involved in a nasty accident that destroyed a large portion of the right side of his body. By rights he should have died. He only survived because he somehow would up the subject of an incredibly experimental (and probably not very legal) bionic procedure. It was a success but the connections between his robotic parts and his human parts made for a messy problem when it came to illness or malfunction.

A doctor can look after his fleshy body, a robotics specialist can easily maintain his enhancements, but very few are willing to get involved when the two mix. The only person really qualified to maintain Bing is an up-to-date expert in bionics, and even then given the often controversial nature of the practice, most of them only know how to handle it in theory.

The only practioner, who has maintained Bing to this point, died six months ago, and Bing has spent all this time trying to find someone else before something goes wrong. Even asking Dr Iplier if he knows anyone who might be able to help. Bing then explains that it may be too late, since he can’t move his arm and his eye is starting to malfunction. If he doesn’t find someone to fix him soon, it’s only a matter of time before something more vital fails, and there’s no coming back from that.

This is a lot to take in, Google finding himself with a lot of questions but deciding that now is probably not the time, he sends a message to summon all the Google droids in Bing’s room. They each have a vital role to play.

Green is tasked with finding any and all resources available that discuss the practice of bionic surgery and to search for notes by the original surgeon. After all, in this new digital age, nothing is ever truly lost. Everything needs to be found, read, noted, printed, filed and shared between them.

Red has to find out which of the other egos know, discreetly. A somewhat arduous task but a vital one nonetheless, given the extremes to which Bing has gone to try and keep this hidden. It’s clearly a point of concern, possibly even shame and if there is anyone who may try and use it against him, they need to know.

Oliver’s duty is to keep Bing calm, since he’s still crying and clearly very distressed. Keep him distracted and reassure him that this is just a hurdle, not a road block. Make sure he doesn’t do anything to further aggravate his parts and maybe try to find out what was replaced so they know where to start working.

Google heads straight for the clinic, informing the doctor that he knows, and they'll require regular access to his clinic at various points, maybe even need his assistance from time to time. When the doctor asks why Google just says he and his brother will be fixing Bing from now on.

They can hardly leave him in the state they found him, they cannot allow him to simply cease to function. Google doesn’t entirely understand his own motivation but he knows one thing.

Bing is a lousy droid - Fact - because he’s  _not_  a droid. And he definitely doesn’t deserve to die.


	2. Don't Panic (Bing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another problem.

The egos are gathered. A meeting has been called after the Googles found Ed Edgar’s online ads attempting to sell not just his son, but each of them. They’ve been removed but the group needs to assess the damage that may have been done, and whether or not any of them were at risk. Thankfully Red removed them. They had just finished going over the ads to make sure there was nothing dangerous being revealed. Nothing of the sort. Just a few insults that left more than one scowling face glaring at Ed. Wilford is slumped in his seat muttering about how he isn’t defective, Bim and Silver Shepherd are reassuring each other that they aren’t a hack or a poor excuse for a cosplayer. My personal favorite though is how he was trying to get rid of the Jims.

_Cats in human form - free to good home_

“You didn’t even ask for money!” Dr Iplier had exclaimed.

“Well maybe if they stopped sticking that dang camera in my face I would have pushed for a bit more!”

Dark finishes up the meeting with assertions that, should this happen again there will be consequences. He doesn’t specify what those consequences might be but this is Dark. It’s not that hard to figure out the kind of consequences that await the redneck.

“We’re just lucky we took them down before somebody tried to buy one of us.”

“Actually…” Everyone turns to look at him in shock “…I got an offer.”

That catches everyone off guard and they all freeze. There’s a beat of silence broken by an unsuitably excited Wilford who demands to know which one of them it was.

Ed says nothing, just turning to look. Everyone follows his line of sight. Bing doesn’t like that everyone’s looking at him. Suspecting he’ll regret asking, he says what everyone’s thinking.

“How much?”

“……20 million.”

The room erupts into chaos, everybody attempting to talk over each other, the tone’s mostly angry but there is a touch of concern thrown in for what this means. Dark is trying to reign it in but not succeeding, especially since Wilford is, as usual, one of the loudest voices.

Google is drawn out of his consideration of what this means when the Host takes a firm hold of the droid’s arm. He says nothing but points over to the now empty seat that Bing had been sat in not moments before. The door to the meeting room clunks shut. Nobody else has noticed.

Bing is limping down the corridor, not sure where he’s going but he knows what’s coming and he can’t handle the other egos’ questions right now. He needs to get away from them. Already he can feel the spasms of his lung, the glitches, the walls closing in. With a stumble, he falls against the wall, partially to the floor and is trying really hard to hold it together when he feels Google grab a hold of him and pull him back to his feet.

Google has sent a message to the others, telling them all to meet them in the clinic, wrapping Bing’s arm around his neck, his own arm around Bing’s chest and pulling Bing forward as they move with haste through the corridors. He tries to talk Bing through his breathing exercises and tells him to stop crying (emotions are really not his strong suit) but they’re not helping. This is a bad one.

When they arrive at the clinic, the others are ready. It’s not Bing’s first panic attack. They cause severe problems because his physical body is responding to emotional distress that his mechanical parts just can’t account for. One side is telling his body to panic while the other is fighting to keep things normal, and the two sides fight over which one is going to be heard.

Green hooks up the heart monitor, Red approaches with the sedative, and Oliver talks to Bing, doing his best to keep him calm while Google locks the door. The last thing they need right now is one of the others to walk in.

They both watch and hear, as the medication slowly manages to calm Bing’s panic, having err’d on the side of caution so it didn’t knock him out. Oliver’s moved onto the breathing exercises now and Bing is finally able to follow them, a few tears still on his face but he’s definitely back in control.

After a while, Google opens up Bing’s chest, just to make sure nothing was damaged by the attack. Everything seems to be in place, except for the error messages that had flagged up in response into the panic attack. Everything’s okay now.

“Goog?” Bing looks tired as he looks up at them all, though it’s from more than just the medication.

“I know.” Google says. Anyone willing to pay 20 million for a ‘Bing-powered search engine droid’ has to know there’s something different about it. They have to know what Bing really is, maybe even  _who_ he is, and the thought of that was enough to launch the cyborg into a panic attack.

And enough to make all of the Googles concerned.


	3. (Bing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing is grounded.

“I’m grounded?!”

“Until we can establish the level of risk to you from this mystery bidder of Ed’s.” Dark summoned (it’s really the only accurate word when dealing with Dark) Bing for this one-to-one and it’s going about as successful as can be expected. Dark’s the one who brought Bing into the building so of course he knows about the boy being a cyborg and it hasn’t escaped him what an offer for Bing of 20 million means. Even so, the grey man is stood behind his desk, a picture of composure as he looks at the younger ego.

“Well it’s obviously a prank.”

“Bing.” 

“Or Ed’s lying because he’s sick of nobody buying his kids.”

“Bing!”

“You  _can’t_ punish me for this! You’re just annoyed because-.”

“ **ASHLEY!** ” The room shakes with Dark’s fury and Bing sits back in his chair looking sheepish, his mouth instantly shutting. “Until  _ **I**_  tell you otherwise, you are  ** _not_**  to leave this building. If I find out that you’ve disobeyed this order, I  ** _will_**  use force. Do you understand me?”

“….yes, Dark.”

When Dark dismisses him, Bing just heads for his room kind of not up for being around anybody else right now. He spends the next hour or so just throwing his baseball (because of course Bing has a baseball for hand-eye co-ordination) at the wall and catching it as it bounces back. Keeps him doing something at least.

Eventually there’s a knock at the door and Silver pokes his head in.

“Bing? You ready?” Right. Thursday. He and Silver go and do dramatic hero-type poses on the roofs of abandoned warehouses every Thursday. It was originally going to be parkour but when neither of them could build the courage to leap between the first rooftops, they just started posing and it’s become kind of a thing now. It’s weird but they enjoy it.

Except now he can’t leave the building. Bing gives a sad smile as he throws the baseball again. “I don’t think I’m feeling it tonight.”

“Really?” It’s hard to tell if Silver is disappointed or relieved. That mask of his doesn’t allow for much expression. “I’ll feel weird doing it on my own.”

Bing shrugs. Of course he wants to do it. He loves their dorky poses and stuff but he also loves not pissing Dark off. “Sorry, bro. Maybe another time.”

When Silver’s gone, Bing throws the ball again. He’s going to have to make a lot of excuses and is probably going to piss off a lot of people. Being one of the lesser egos without a major input to…well anything, he does a lot of random stuff with the others. 

He won’t be able to check on the neighborhood squirrels with King on Saturday. Yeah he won’t have a good excuse for that. And since he can’t run errands for Google any more, he’ll reinstate the ban on Bing’s presence in the computer lab while they’re working. He’s thinking of all the things he won’t be able to do any more when the door opens again.

Silver pokes his head in again. “If you’re not up for posing, do you want to race wheely office chairs up on the third floor instead?”

Bing grins, almost leaping to his feet as he yells “Hell yeah!”

Maybe being ‘grounded’ just means he’ll have to be a bit more creative in what he does with his friends.


	4. Bing and King (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best Friends Fall Out

Bing is sat in the meeting room, slumped forward on the table. Nobody else is there but that’s kind of the point. It’s a less obvious place to hide than his own room. Of course that’s presuming that anyone even wants to find him right now. King had been pretty mad.

The door to the room softly creaks open before slamming open with a BANG forcing Bing to look up to see a Jim in the doorway. “He’s in here!” he yells pointing dramatically at the droid within. There’s a sound of fast footsteps as the other Jim appears behind him. The twins begin to babble excitedly though it soon turns to silence as Dark appears between them. Without a word, they part to let him through, both staying on the threshold. The Dark Jim has made it 100% clear that the meeting room is a Jim Twin free zone at all times and that’s not a rule they’re going to break in his presence.

As Dark walks in, Bing honestly considers just ignoring him. The last thing he wants right now is a lecture from the lord of the dicks.

“I hear there was an argument.” 

Bing glares at the door that the Jims are still stood behind, silently seething at them. Those dang twins are such tattle-tales sometimes. He knew they were up to something when he saw them run off. “It’s nothing.” Though he slumps further as he says this. He knows he’s lying, and he knows Dark’s knows he’s lying but he’s kind of at a point where he doesn’t give a dang what Dark thinks.

It’s evident that Dark doesn’t appreciate the lie but he doesn’t challenge or comment on it. “Do I need to increase security?” Dark leaves the end of the question open, making it very obvious what he’s actually asking.

Bing shuffles. He’s had a big blow out argument with his best friend. One that concerned the Jims enough to tell arguably the most powerful ego in the building and of course all Dark cares about is that Bing isn’t going to break the rules. “I’m not going anywhere.” he assures him, still not looking up.

He assumes that’s it, Bing’s staying, Dark’s duty is done. When he doesn’t hear Dark leaving, Bing looks up to find the grey ego has in fact sat down opposite him.

“As I understand, as part of your consignment to the building, you’ve fallen out of favor with King of the Squirrels.” When no protest or correction is raised he continues. “Do you and the King make plans often?”

Bing stares at Dark, not really sure what’s going on right here, but at the question he doesn’t hesitate. “He’s my best friend.”

“King said Bing should shut himself down!” a muffled voice calls from outside.

Angered, Bing turns and screams at the door. “SHUT THE HECK UP JIM OR I’LL COME OUT THERE AND MAKE YOU!!”

“Does he know about you?”

Bing slumps again, not looking at Dark. Of course he doesn’t. It’s bad enough that Dark, Doc, and Google know. It’s pretty hard to live in denial when everyone around you knows the truth. He doesn’t say anything.

After the silence drags on for a short while, Dark turns to the door, calling for the Jims, telling them to fetch the King of the Squirrels and to bring him to the meeting room. They both hear the Jims running off. Bing sits up and looks at Dark in shock.

“Why are you bringing him here?”

“You need to tell him.”

“No!” Bing leaps to his feet, immediately in panic. “I can’t!”

“Calm down.”

“What if he hates me?! What if he never wants to see me again?! What if-?!”

The whole room shakes, the ringing that follows Dark getting loud to the point that Bing has to cover his ears to try and block it out.  When it stops, he looks up to see Dark is on his feet again and he is not happy.

“You’re not the only one with secrets. And you’re not the only one with an erratic, impulsive best friend.“ True, King is both but nowhere near Wilford levels. “I understand your reluctance, but eventually  _everyone_  in these walls will know, either from you or someone else. So if you trust him, if you wish him to  _remain_ your friend, you are going to tell him.”

“Tell me what?”

They turn. King is stood in the doorway, holding it open, the excitable Jims stood behind him and a squirrel on his shoulder. The Jims had said Dark wanted to see him but had managed to omit the part where Bing would be here, so there’s a scowl on his face as he looks at between Dark and Bing.


	5. King and Bing (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Dark isn't always wrong.

Dark stands at the head of the table, his usual position, while Bing sits on one side, and King of the Squirrels sits on the other. The King seems a little overwhelmed while Bing looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“So everything you’ve ever told me about you is a lie?” King says.

Bing honestly wants to throw up. He can’t look at King’s face, not able to handle whatever betrayal or hatred might be showing on it. There’s no more words, how in the heck is he supposed to answer that? After a moment, King stands up and walks out, the door clicking closed behind him.

Bing slumps forward onto the table, grim and defeated and mumbles. “Can I go now?”

Drawing up to his full height, Dark adjusts himself. “It may not seem like it now but it’s for the best.”  If King’s actions shock him, Dark isn’t showing it. Maybe that was the point here. Not to make things better, but to make them worse. Give him less temptation to go outside.

Bing drags himself to his feet, glaring at Dark as he does so. “Due respect dude, shut the frick up.”

The Jims aren’t outside any more. They probably went with King. Well at least he didn’t have to try and explain to them. Bing just heads back to his room since there’s not really any where else he can go.

When he gets there, his biggest instinct is to just sleep and pretend he hasn’t just stripped himself bare and been rejected. Dark is such a butt. Grounding him, making him tell King. If Bing thought for even a second that his punch would land, he’d slam that grey guy in the gut.

The door slams open and Bing flinches, torn from his thoughts by the shout of “I’ve found him!” Jim is stood in the doorway. This is becoming a bad habit.

There’s the sound of frantic running as the other Jim appears. Bing’s about to have a go at them for bothering him, and maybe telling them to have a bit more respect for doors, when King appears behind both of them.

The Jims are grinning like chesire cats and King has to shove them out the way so he can actually enter the room. Once he’s close enough, he reaches forward to grab for Bing’s arm but pauses.

“…Which one is your robot arm?” Confused, Bing gently waves with his right hand, for it to be grabbed by King who then drags him towards the door. “Move!” King shouts at the Jims who leap out the way. To say that Bing is confused would be somewhat of an understatement, though he offers no resistence as King pulls him through the corridors, the Jims not far behind chattering about how they should have grabbed their camera to film this.

It’s obvious after a short while that King’s dragging Bing to his section of  the building. A series of rooms with various plants, environments and just basically everything King needs to cater and care for his 40+ scurry of squirrels (learning that term for a group of squirrels from Google is definitely in Bing’s top ten favorite moments since he moved into the building).

They enter one of the recovery rooms. All of the sick, injured, or abandoned squirrels that they find when they check on the local squirrels are brought here and nursed to health again before being released.

King lets go of Bing when they reach a small cage, housing a pretty small grey squirrel that shies away when King reaches in. He coos though and talks softly for a few minutes, telling it how everything is fine, how King won’t hurt it. Slowly, it starts to trust him and moves forward, allowing King to gently scoop it up.

Turning to Bing, he commands the droid to hold his hands out, which Bing does immediately, and watches as King carefully drops the little guy into his hands. He then moves to adjust Bing’s hold so the squirrel won’t fall if it squirms too much.

“His name’s Felix and he’s a little uh…” King mouths ‘runty’ never being comfortable to speak negatively of squirrels in front of them. “He can’t go outside until he’s grown a bit and the temperature picks up.”

Bing blinks down at the squirrel in confusion before looking up to King who just raises his eyebrows expectantly. Then it clicks.

“….You want me to look after one of your squirrels?” Felix is shaking in his hands, calming only when King reaches forward to gently run his fingers down his back. “But aren’t you mad at me?”

Felix starts to relax the longer he’s in Bing’s fingers and King continues to pet him, giving a slight sigh at the question. “I stormed out because it hurts that you didn’t trust me with this. That Dark of all people had to force you to tell me.”

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you bro. I just…” Careful not to crush the little guy, Bing shifts so he can run his thumb across Felix’s fur.  “My existence is illegal….and I’m  _not_  okay with that. So I pretend that I’m a droid. Because it’s easier.”

“I said that!” One of the Jims in the door crosses his arm looking smug while the other Jim rolls his eyes.

“You said he was probably defective.” Says eye-rolling Jim.

The tension in the room is gone, blown out the water by the twins’ comments and Bing can’t help but to laugh at the two of them. King laughs too and the two bros share a pure moment while the Jims just look at them in confusion.

When they stop, King explains that if Bing is going to have to stay indoors for a while that he should at least have something to do, and since King himself can’t neglect his duties to his subjects and stay inside all the time, then a squirrel that needs a friend like Bing will just have to do in the meantime.

Bing loves it and resolves to take the best dang care of Felix that he can!


	6. Host and Bing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing is having sleep issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight mixup with some of the chapters before. They should be in the right place now though

Bing doesn’t typically dream, hasn’t since the accident, or at least if he does, he doesn’t remember it when he wakes up. Nothing. It’s like his brain just shuts off when he rests. So when he starts waking up, still exhausted, no matter how low he dares to let his charge get, no matter how many hours uninterrupted he manages to sleep, it barely occurs to him that he might be having nightmares because he never remembers them.

He’s dozed off in the last three meetings and given how little he actually contributes to them, nobody seems to have noticed, or if they have, they don’t say anything. Well Dark keeps sending him death glares when they adjorn so it’s very likely that Dark’s noticing. It’s after he barely keeps his eyes open for the fourth meeting, that Bing is approached by the Host.

That has him on edge, even without the strain of sleep deprivation, because the Host is weeeeird. Which considering some of the people who sit at that table is saying something. I mean, he’s blind, but he sees things he shouldn’t and he has this creepy all-knowing vibe to him while he sits in silence throughout the meetings. Dark seems to avoid calling on him, Wilford always gives him side-eye. Like everyone seems wary of him and Bing is perfectly okay with not finding out why.

The Host approaches Bing and using that weird third-person self-referencing thing he basically comments that he’s noticed that Bing seems tired and that the Host can maybe offer some assistance.

Now Bing doesn’t know exactly what the Host can do but he’s sure Dark has mentioned at some point and it’s some kind of mind mumbo-jumbo, which immediately has Bing feeling very vulnerable because that’s where he keeps his secret, and it’s not something he's ready to be sharing with any more than the gajillion people who already know. Not to mention, the thought of someone messing with his head is not a great one, so he’s like “Thanks bro but no thanks.” and just leaves.

Three days later, Bing feels worse and can barely understand English any more - slight exaggeration, he can understand everything, he just can’t focus long enough to get proper meaning from words and spends the day curled up in the TV room, staring at whatever the hell it is happens to be on the TV, he’s not that bothered.

He barely notices when the Host comes in, knowing Bing is going to be here, knowing that Bing is worse off than he was last time they spoke, knowing that as far as Bing can determine, the Host might as well not be there.

All the Host does is talk, softly and as calm as he can manage, not wanting to disturb the clearly distressed droid, using his narrations to gently guide Bing towards sleep. It takes a while before Bing finally dozes off, but the Host is patient and waits, patiently waiting until he’s certain that his looking inside Bing’s mind will be at low risk of waking him up and making things worse.

When Bing jolts awake again, several hours have passed, his head feels just as heavy, his brain as mushy and the TV has been turned off. He turns this way and that to see the room empty. He _swears_ someone was just talking to him.

* * *

“How bad is it?” Dark stands behind the desk in his office. He’s seen that something’s wrong with Bing and since Bing is unwilling, or possibly unable, to reveal what the cause is, he asked the Host to do what he does, and find some answers.

The Host stands on the other side of the desk, his arms folded, his lips in a tight line. “Bad.”


	7. Corridor Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing overhears something unpleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On tumblr, there is like a twenty word post that explains that Dark allowed Bing to leave the building again before the last chapter but I didn't realise until after I posted it and this chapter doesn't make sense if you don't know that. My bad.

Bing is being led through the corridors by the Jims, both of them are surprisingly quiet as they pull him along. They had knocked on his bedroom door, a bad sign in and of itself given their well-documented history of slamming doors open, and simply taken one hand each before leading him to…well Bing doesn’t know, and the only response they give to questions is a gentle sssshhh.

“You two really shouldn’t do quiet.” he eventually comments but they don’t respond. “Quiet usually means you’re up to something.” The Jims share a look but just keep going. They eventually stop and Bing realises they’re outside Dark’s office. Another Jim-free zone. One Jim adjusts his hold so he’s holding Bing’s hand tightly with both his hands, almost like he’s trying to reassure Bing, while the other Jim moves to very slightly push the door open. It’s enough that they can hear those talking inside but not enough that any of those in the room will notice.

“-not the kind to act on his own. Most likely he’s under instruction from someone else.” That’s obviously Dark, he sounds annoyed, though he rarely doesn’t these days.

“So how do we stop him?” That would be Google. You didn’t get told to get out the damn computer lab every other day by that voice without being able to recognise it almost instantly. 

“The Host may have a possible solution.”

“Possible? Bing’s running himself into the ground just functioning. We need more than just possible.” Jim’s hand squeezes Bing’s tightly and the cyborg has to use his free hand to cover his mouth to keep from being heard.

They’re talking about  _him_. Dark, Google, and the Host are talking about  ** _him_**. The Jims had probably heard the beginning of the conversation (that good ol’ journalistic instinct that drove them to eavesdrop on everything) and came to find him so he can hear what they’re saying.

“Google, your concern is unnecessary. We-”

“This is  _entirely_  your fault! You let him go out again too soon! If you’d stopped and thought for two seconds-”

“Whoever made the offer went deep into hiding. I needed  _something_ to draw them out.”

Both of the Jims’ eyes go wide and Bing’s tired eyes glaze over slightly as he realises what Dark’s just admitted. Google is the one who voices it.

“You used Bing as bait?”

“Google.”

“You purposefully put him at risk to your own ends?” Google’s voice is getting angrier. Bing tries to pull his hand from Jim’s but the grip is tight and Jim shakes his head, no.

“For his own good.” There is no emotion in Dark’s voice, no indication of remorse or regret and Bing honestly feels like such an idiot. Dark doesn’t care about him, despite bringing him in, promising safety. Dark is just using him and Bing is too desperate to finally feel like he belongs somewhere to have ever questioned anything Dark said or did.

He can’t take this. Bing kicks Jim to get the twin to let him go, making Jim yelp and clutch at his leg. Other Jim yells in anger at seeing his brother attacked but Bing is already running, as far and as fast as he can manage in his weakened state. Both of them yell after him and then flinch as the door to Dark’s office is torn open.

Google stands in the doorway, looking between the Jims, rage on his face. “Where is he?” he demands. Both Jims point after Bing and the droid storms past them.

At the best of times, Google is faster and stronger than Bing and now, it’s even more so.The droid catches up to him barely two corridors away from Dark’s office, grabbing a hold of Bing’s right arm forcing him to stop running.

Turning, Bing uses his free arm to hit at Google, smacking him as hard as he can, but the free arm is his human one and all he’s doing is sending painful reverberations through his own body. It doesn’t matter though and he keeps smacking, pounding and bashing at the droid, tears streaming down his face as he fights to get Google to let go.

Google refuses, letting the cyborg bash at him but keeping his firm grip on Bing’s robotic arm. He doesn’t know how much Bing heard, what might have upset him and emotions like this tend to escape him, but he will stand there as long as it takes because Bing is like a brother to him. Despite his frequent attempts to hold the cyborg at arm’s length, the little idiot has wormed his way into that role. After all they certainly fight enough to be brothers and though he frequently gets angry with Bing, Google doesn’t like the idea of others being a dick to him.

The fight doesn’t last long, Bing eventually stopping with the attack and just leaning against Google’s chest, still crying. Google tugs gently at Bing’s arm telling him that he’s better than this, that he’s better than Dark and he can’t let that asshole get to him

“I hate him.” Bing mutters.

“No you don’t. You’re just tired.” He’s never known Bing to hate anyone, like he can get really mad at people, but for Bing ‘hate’ is a strong word. A sleep-deprived Bing may be different, but even then the more appropriate word would be ‘cranky’.

Bing sighs. He  _is_  tired, he’s way too tired for any of this but sleeping isn’t helping. Still, if he understands what he heard in Dark’s office right, they know the cause. “What’s happening to me, Goog?” he mutters quietly.

Google seems to consider it for a moment before he speaks. “What do you know about Natemare?”


	8. In the Clinic (Bing)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The egos try to get Bing on board with their plan.

“No way! I’ve _never_ going to sleep again!”

The Jims brought King of the Squirrels to the clinic and ever since he walked in, Bing has been half-hiding behind and half-hugging his best friend from behind. King is facing Dr Iplier, the Host, and Red, Green, and Oliver and is honestly more than a little lost with what’s going on.

“It’s the only time he’s vulnerable.” Green tries to explain.

“ _I’m_  vulnerable!”

“You won’t be on your own. We’ll keep you safe.” Oliver offers.

“Like how Dark said he’d keep me safe?! I’m  _not_  doing it!”

“Hypnagogia.” Everybody turns to Dr Iplier at his strange outburst but the doctor just folds his arms. “It’s the transitional moments between waking and sleep. Typically accompanied by visual and auditory hallucinations, reduction in cognitive function, and paralysis. It usually only lasts moments but can last longer as a result of disrupted sleep. Given how long you say this has been going on, microsleep is inevitable and you could easily become stuck in a permanent state of hypnagogia. Literally stuck in a waking dream.” Everyone is staring in shock at the guy who, rather than give a proper diagnosis, usually opts to just tell everyone they’re dying.  He frowns. “What? I  _am_  a real doctor.”

After the shock fades, the Host speaks up. “The Host suggests we not wait to see what Natemare would be able to do to you in such a state.”

Bing bows his head, leaning his forehead against King’s shoulder. That sounds bad but they’re not listening to him, and Google isn’t there, and Dark is a dick, and he _doesn’t_ want to sleep.“Kiiiiing.” he whines, hoping his friend will have his back.

“They might just sedate you.” King attempts but the Host shakes his head.

“Natemare will suspect something if Bing doesn’t voluntarily go to sleep.” Dr Iplier and the Host are looking at King expectantly and the Googles look to be at the end of their rope.

King sighs. “Bing, you’ve got to do it.” Bing shrinks, clinging and trying to hide behind King who turns to talk over his shoulder. “From what I can tell, your choices are go to sleep or basically hand over your brain to this boogey man. The Bing I know wouldn’t do that.”

“That Bing’s dead.” he mumbles. It’s a feeble argument and King shakes his head at it.

“No. He probably wishes he is, but he’s not.”

Bing goes silent, a few moments ticking by before he tightens his grip around his friend “You  _promise_  you’re going to be there?”

Oliver nods emphatically. “We’re all going to be right here.” Everybody nods in agreement and King shuffles his shoulder to shake Bing gently so he watches all these people making this promise to him.

Eventually… “……okay.”

Bing’s hold around King loosens a little and King is able to shift so he can turn and properly hug Bing close. Around them, the others begin to set things up making sure everything is in place. This has the potential to go very wrong. They need to be prepared


	9. Enter Natemare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A team effort to fight the nightmares.

Dr Iplier and Green are setting up ways for them to monitor Bing while he sleeps. A heart monitor as well as a link to his robotic system so they can read exactly what’s going on as it happens. Nobody’s actually been around him while he sleeps so they have no clue what to expect and the Host insists it may be essential that they can see exactly what’s going on with him during this.

The Host is stood to the side, seemingly observing, while Red stands next to him. Nobody is questioning this pairing, assuming that the Host has a reason for it, and assuming they’ll be allowed to know when they need to.

Bing refuses to lay down, saying something about how it makes him feel helpless so they eventually settle on him sitting on the bed leaning sideways against King of the Squirrels who’s got his arms wrapped around his friend. Bing’s half-holding King back, his head leaning on King’s shoulder while Oliver, sat on his other side, has one hand on Bing’s shoulder, rubbing small circles so the cyborg knows he’s not on his own.  It’s actually really comfortable and reassuring, and Bing’s struggling not to just drift off like this.

Bing is kind of rocking between awake and asleep, seeing all sorts of strange colors and feeling like he’s moving back and forth, even as he knows he’s sat perfectly still. He comments on it and King promises that he can go to sleep soon, while Oliver promises that they’re all right there.

When Green says everything is hooked up, and Dr Iplier agrees, the Host tells them to prepare themselves as Bing finally tips over the edge of consciousness and falls asleep.

For a good ten or so minutes, the air is still, filled only with the beeping of the heart monitor while they all hold their breath, waiting for something to happen. The beeping slowly increases, still steady, elevated but not a real worry yet. Green and the doctor are checking the readouts and say that there’s no sign of a problem yet but King disagrees. Bing’s fingers on his elbow twitch once, twice, before taking a firm grip and shaking. Something is happening. They look to the Host who shakes his head.

Oliver and King do their best to quietly reassure Bing, doing their best not to speak too loudly for fear of waking him up and having to start this whole process again. Just quietly muttering to him that he’s okay, that there’s nothing wrong, though they both feel like they’re speaking too soon.

King is the one who feels Bing tense up, the slight shake worsening while the steady stream of beeps gradually continue to pick up speed. Another glance at the Host, who shakes his head again, and King wishes he hadn’t agreed to this. Nobody notices a shadow flit in front of Bing, all of them distracted as the cyborg’s closed eyes begin to flicker.

“His system thinks he’s under attack. It’s trying to wake him up.” Green tells them, moments before Bing’s eyes draw wide, staring blankly at nothing. It’s wrong, it’s unnatural and King hates it 

“Bing?”

Green insists that he’s not awake, that it’s just Bing’s system. Bing begins to struggle and King tries to tighten his hold on his friend.

“Host!” King yells, no longer concerned with his noise. Red looks to the Host, even looking concerned himself. Still the Host shakes his head. King rages. “Are you kidding me!!”

_Now_  they can see it, a black smokey mass beginning to take shape, gain weight and form and Bing, still blank-eyed, seemingly ‘still asleep’, is staring at it transfixed. Within seconds the shadows merge and Natemare is stood in front of Bing, one finger holding Bing’s chin up forcing the sleeping cyborg to look at him. Though mostly formed, there’s still a translucence to him and when King goes to reach forward, the Host tells him to hold back.

The seconds seem to drag on and everybody watches on willing this to stop as the form becomes more solid until-

“NOW!”

King leaps forward and tackles Natemare to the ground, his mind flooding with his worst nightmares just from touching him, but they’re soon cut short as he’s pulled off by Red who kicks a growling Natemare to the ground as his system plays the song they’d set up. A gentle tune, plinky-plonking as it plays through Red’s speakers. The second it starts, Natemare screams, his eyes immediately drooping as he drops to the floor, eyes blinking closed as the music box tune forces him to sleep.

They all stand there waiting until they’re a hundred percent sure he isn’t faking before breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“That went…..surprisingly well.” Dr Iplier says. King glares at him.


	10. It Never Rains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It never rains, but it pours

No longer under attack, Bing sleeps for several hours, waking up laid in the clinic with several concerned faces around him. King of the Squirrels, Silver Shepherd, the Jim Twins, and Oliver have apparently all insisted on waiting by his bedside until he wakes up. It’s pretty heartening to wake up feeling actually rested and to see so many of his friends. Well their bummed faces aren’t that nice to see but when they all come to the conclusion that Bing isn’t lying when he says he’s okay, a near-dogpile hug occurs, all of them attempting to hug him in one go. Dr Iplier isn’t impressed and is immediately trying to shoo them off of Bing saying that all hugs need to be one at a time.

Bing is confined to the clinic until either the other Googles, the Host, or Dark say it is safe for him to leave, the five of them of them currently working on safely containing Natemare where he can’t harm anyone. So somebody goes to fetch a bunch of goofy board games and the small gaggle of the smaller egos just set up a small floor party at the foot of Bing’s bed. Nobody keeps track of who’s winning the most, everybody too busy having fun. I know though. Silver kills it at Connect 4, Bing rocking gin rummy, Oliver owning everyone when they play mouse trap, King showing everybody how to be an unapologetic ass in Sorry, and the Jim Twins naturally win time after time when it comes to pictionary.

Dr Iplier politely refuses to join them every time he checks in on them, though he’s smiling a littler harder each time. It’s just kind of wholesome to see the kids getting along and having a good time. It’s not something he gets to see all that often. Eventually he comes in to tell them the Host just came by briefly to give the all clear. They’re safe to venture out into the building again and unfortunately the doctor needs the room and bed for his other patients.

Unfortunately the bed is only officially empty for a grand total of three minutes, because as the egos begin to make their way to the door, they hear a slumping sound and all glance around trying to figure out what’s gong on.

Bing spots him collapsed on the ground first.

“King?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short. When I first wrote it, I kept over complicating it. Keeping it short, kept it simple.


	11. Bing and Natemare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can't be fun having someone mess with your mind like this.

Thank whoever made the Jim Twins for their undying levels of loyalty and seeming lack of self-preservation instincts. If not for their lack of problem with distracting Dark and Google right now, Bing would have no chance of sneaking into where they’d managed to contain Natemare. See he has questions and he knows neither of them will allow him anywhere near his attacker so sneaking around is really his only option. Plus he’s still mad at Dark so anything that ticks the grey guy off is just an added bonus really.

It’s a secluded part of the Google’s computer lab, somewhere that Bing’s been maybe a handful of times without getting kicked out. There’s a lot of sensitive equipment in here and he’d probably damage something so he hardly blames Goog for keeping him out. For the best ultimately. It looks like just a big see-through plastic box but Bing knows that there’s definitely more to it than that. The details don’t matter, as long as whatever it is is doing it’s job and keeping Natemare from getting loose, that’s all that matters.

As he draws close, he sees Natemare is curled up in a corner, trying to make himself as small as possible, hiding from the music that’s playing loud enough to be heard all throughout the room. (Bing doesn’t know since he was asleep but it’s the same music that Red used to put Natemare to sleep). It sounds like a music box and the tune is oddly familiar. Something about an old clock or something?

“Natemare.” Bing calls to the box. The figure doesn’t move or make any indication he heard. He probably shouldn’t move closer but Bing has never been a one for reasonable actions and shuffles closer to kick gently at the plastic wall.

Natemare raises his head at the noise and Bing gets to see his attacker for the first time. He’s pale, dark hair that falls into his eyes and purple streaks that run down his cheeks like tears permanently etched onto his cheeks. As Bing looks he notices that there are actual tears pouring down them as well and a look of utter distress. This is the guy who attacked him?

“Are you Natemare?”

“Turn it off.” It’s not angry. It’s desperate, ‘Mare clinging tighter to his knees that are pulled towards his chest. “Please turn it off.”

Bing’s eyes drift up as the song starts over again. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Please. I don’t like this song.”

Hearing someone who caused such trouble, that Dark, and Google, and even the Host, are adamant is a danger, to hear him sound so scared feels wrong to him. Bing shakes his head and turns slightly, not able to maintain eye contact with the thing in the cage.

“Please! It makes me sad and I don’t know why.” Natemare shifts forward, sitting up a little and starting to plead as he speaks. “I hate this song. I hate it! Please! Make it stop!”

Bing refuses to look at him as he speaks again. “Are you attacking the King of the Squirrels?”

King is passed out in the clinic and Dr Iplier doesn’t know what’s happened to him. His best friend now occupies the bed where he’d been not an hour or two before and it kills him. The timing is too coincidental, the others say that King tackled Natemare, so it stands to reason that this is some fallout from that attack. This is just Natemare messing with all of them as some fricked up back up plan since they interfered with his plans for Bing.

“Please! Please make it stop!”

“You need to stop hurting him.”

“I’m not! Please!”

“Stop it!”

“I swear I’m no-”

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Bing practically screams it, punching at the plastic wall, ‘Mare drawing back at the angry attack.

“Bing!” Dark only has to say it once, firmly, for it to draw silence from both of them. The only sound is the slight ringing of Dark’s aura from where he’s stood in the doorway and the continuing music all around them. “Come with me.”

Bing follows Dark through the halls, all the way back to the clinic, silently seething at the grey ego’s back. Dark directs him to sit somewhere out of sight but where he will still hear everything.

“Sit there, shut up, and listen. And for once in your life, try using that brain you keep between your ears the way it was intended.”

Dark turns and approaches King of the Squirrel’s bed.


	12. King the Tree Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that Dark's been telling lies. Though, I feel as though anyone who's ever spent more than five minutes with the man could have guessed that.

King drops as though he’s a puppet whose strings just got cut, crumpling to the floor, no longer conscious, no clue anything’s even wrong. When he does wake up, he’s in the bed that he’d literally helped Bing out of not an hour or two ago. There appears to be nobody around, no immediate threat, and just the thought of standing up is exhausting, so instead King settles with just dozing.

“King.” the voice that drags him skyward again is that of Dark. The big man.  _That_ guy. King’s least favorite. He grumbles, groaning, unwilling to deal with this ego’s ass-ery. “King, this is important.”

“Later.” he manages to grumble, making what movements he can to turn his back on Dark. “Tired. Sleep now.”

“Your forest isn’t dead.”

King freezes, his body tensing as he tries to process what Dark’s saying. “….But you said-”

“I lied.” Right. This is Dark. Not a good guy. King shuffles to sit up, moving so that he can lean back as he throws a death glare at the grey ego. “Some of your trees were taken down but most of them were relocated to other green spaces. I don’t know how many there are, or where they were taken but once you’re well enough, you should go and find them.”

Dark had been so sure of himself when he’d found King way back when. Confident in his acquiring of the tree spirit, full of fake bravado, insisting that King wouldn’t need his trees, insisted that there was no way left to save them. “Why are you suddenly okay with this?”

Dark is undisturbed by the accusation left unsaid in these words as he straightens his cuff. “I thought I could find a way to sustain you without them. I was wrong. I believe something happened to one of your trees and if we don’t retrieve them you will fade with them.”

King thinks about it, about the idea of having what remains of his forest back, being able to protect them, to show that he’s not some damn kook who’s a little overzealous about his squirrels, the only part of his forest that Dark had told him would remain.

The dryad is the only one who can locate the trees, Dark insists, but he promises that when King finds them, the grey ego will make arrangements for their safe removal and relocation to the building.

“I believe there’s a suitable spot in the grounds.” he says as he straightens his jacket and gives a small insincere smile before turning to leave. “You should leave as soon as Dr Iplier says you are well enough to.”

Dark heads towards the exit and King shouts after him. “You’re a lying asshole and I hate you!” Needing to make sure Dark knows that the years of lies were not going to be forgotten, and sure as hell weren’t going to be forgiven.

Dark pauses on his way out and turns. King can’t hear the words as he speaks quietly and frowns but then Dark is gone and from the space where Dark had just stopped, Bing steps out from where he’d been hiding. A distraught look on his face.

Without thinking, King throws off the cover that had been thrown over him and goes to stand, his legs protesting a little and his head reeling from the sudden change in elevation. Bing doesn’t even think before running over, wrapping his arms around King’s shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

“What did he say to you?” King asks, unashamedly leaning into the hug as he returns it.

“Nothing.” Bing says. “It was nothing.”


	13. King's absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what do you do when your best friend goes in search of trees?

_Not everything is about you._

That’s what Dark says to Bing in the clinic. It kind of stabs him in the gut a little but it also puts things into perspective and makes him realise that he needs to not focus on himself so much. There are whole other people with completely other issues in this building.

So, it turns out his best friend is some kind of tree spirit and he needs to go and save his trees. Naturally Bing volunteers to go with him, wanting to help however he can, but King insists this is something he needs to do on his own, that he needs someone to look after his squirrels, and that he would rather feed them to the Septics than place them in the care of the Jims, and Silver is still kind of jittery around small animals after the Jims brought home a small dog they found. Bing is the only one he trusts with the squirrels.

Of course Bing accepts and insists he will take the best possible care of all the squirrels, though he is kind of insistent that even if King is technically a tree man, he will always be the  _only_  King of the Squirrels.

King’s absence in that first week is kind of like a big hole in his usual activities. It’s really weird to go into the recovery room, to interact with all of the squirrels and try to get them all to behave like they would for King, knowing that he isn’t nearby. It makes him nervous. At least when King was only in the next room, it didn’t matter if Bing made a mistake but now it’s all down to him. Still he promised King he’d look after the squirrels, so that’s what he’s going to do, nerves be danged.

He doesn’t trouble himself thinking about Natemare. Dark can take care of that. Give the butt something to focus on. Google is still usually busy but since King’s been gone, Red, Green, and Oliver keep arranging video game nights for the four of them to hang out. When Goog isn’t busy he’s there too and they just spend the evening having fun, usually playing some kind of party video game. He’s not ignorant that they’re probably worried about him missing King, but he doesn’t call them on it. It’s nice to spend some time with his bros without having to initiate for once.

It’s not perfect, but it’s a pretty sweet life right now.


	14. Dark and Natemare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would seem they've met before...

It’s been three days since the cyborg came in and refused to turn the song off and Mare is starting to think he’s going to have to listen to it for the rest of forever. The knees of his trousers are soaked through from where he’s tried desperately to stop crying but it’s useless. The sadness, the utter devastation that twists his chest just gets worse and worse with each round, and it’s starting to seep into his skin like a wet blanket that he can’t shake off. Nobody’s  _ever_  coming. This is it. This is his forever.

It barely registers with him that the volume has been turned down before someone speaks.

“Natemare.”

His head snaps up to see Dark stood just on the other side of the plastic wall staring at him. The grey ego’s mouth is set in a firm line as he watches the spirit but there’s a touch of something in his gaze. Mare doesn’t know what it is though. All he knows is that this is the last person he wants to see, a flicker of anger lighting up inside him before quickly fizzling out again.

“Piss off.” he says, tiredly.

“Whoever you’re working for, they’re just using you.”

“Like you would know.” The spite Mare tries to fill his words with fall flat and it sounds like a pathetic jibe instead. “Like you give a shit what I do.”

“When it affects this building, I do.” Dark stares at him, seemingly waiting for something and soon Mare has to hide his face, not willing to look at that asshole any more.

“Of course. Anything to protect your  _family_.” the last word is filled with as much spite as he can muster.

When he’d learned that Dark was gathering people, bringing together weirdos that the world wanted to go away, Natemare had been desperate to be a part of it. A place to belong. But apparently he didn’t fit the weirdness outline just right. No, apparently a wandering spirit didn’t fit in with a rumored cannibilistic TV show host, a murderous journalist, a rodent monarch, a Texan, a lame ass super hero, the Jims, and an inhuman thing.

“Is that why you’ve gone after Bing?”

Natemare just glares at Dark. Of course he hates that Bing made it into this stupid dumbass family. What the fuck does that cyborg contribute? I mean what the actual fuck does he bring to this building? Mare says none of this though.

If Dark is just going to twist the blade that feels like it’s been stabbed in his chest, Mare would rather be alone. “Should I even bother to ask you to turn the song off on your way out?”

Dark sighs, a flash of disappointment on his face as he straightens his jacket. “You all ready know what my answer will be.”

So he doesn’t ask, just curls up again as the grey ego leaves him to the next round of the song. Mare doesn’t notice that Dark doesn’t turn the volume up again as he leaves.


	15. Reconnecting (King)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King gets back to his roots...hehe roots

Dark offered to help, but King has no more time for that man’s lies. They’re his trees, he doesn’t need anyone’s help to find them.

There’s always been something just beneath his skin trying to draw him outside, but King has always assumed it’s from living indoors which has always seemed unnatural to him. It’s so confining and boxed in and horrible. The air isn’t fresh and it’s recycled and tastes dead. He’s always just ignored it because he couldn’t do anything about it, but this time he follows it.

The feeling leads him back to the park where he’d last seen his trees. It’s less than a third of the size it used to be, a large portion of it bulldozed for new buildings just as he’d expected but there’s some of it left and as he follows the draw, it leads him to the small green space left in amongst all these grey buildings.

It’s like a tingling as he gets closer, like a kid waiting for Christmas, or their birthday, or the Jims finding one of their news stories. A raising in anticipation that just runs up and down his spine and draws a smile from him without him meaning it to.

Not all of these are from his forest, and he walks past the ones that aren’t his without even thinking to stop. There’s maybe five of his trees here, it’s a little hard to tell since they’re clustered together but there’s one that King has his eyes on now and he knows, he  _knows_ that it’s his.

Marching almost right up to it, he stops short and looks at it. He can feel it. That tingling is almost like his heart is doing backflips right now and he feels so much more complete than he has in years. Carefully, he reaches forward, a little scared in case he’s wrong, in case he’s reading meaning into indigestion, but the second his fingertips brush against the bark he knows.

A brisk wind blows around his legs and a chill runs up his spine, along his arms and swirls around his head as tears form in the corners of his eyes.  _This_  is a part of his forest. It isn’t dead. Stepping forward, he shifts, bowing his head so he can rest his forehead against the bark feeling that connection to it immediately. It’s here. It’s been here, waiting for him.

The tears begin to spill and he doesn’t care. It’s just so…. He thought it was  _dead_. He thought that the few small remnants of what used to span for miles around were destroyed because that’s what was going to happen when he left. That’s what Dark had said. Yet here it is, under his fingertips that gently run over the coarse bark in utter disbelief.

Beneath the relief, there are the seeds of guilt as he looks over his tree, over all the trees, and sees where people have cut at them. One of the trees has one of those gaudy ‘someone 4 someone’ messages carved into it and King wishes he had been there to stop that from happening, but he can’t let himself get distracted, not right now.

It takes a while but King eventually identifies six trees as being from his forest and he makes the call. Dark tells him to stay there. that Wilford is coming, and he is more than aware of the importance of this intended cargo.

“Don’t be afraid to get mad at him if he’s doing something wrong.” Dark instructs before the call ends.

All that’s left to do is wait.

* * *

 

Bing yells as he’s shaken awake and as he sits up, he barely has time to register the Jims before they grab his arms and all but lift him from his bed and begin to drag him through the corridors.

All questions as to what in the actual frick are ignored, both of them grinning a storm as they lead him outside to what passes as the building’s garden. It used to be kind of small and nothing to write home about but overnight it looked like it had grown over three times bigger to accommodate the new trees that stood pretty dang tall.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Bing walks over to the trees in disbelief. They had definitely not been there the day before. Definitely a hundred percent new and Dark didn’t let anything not important take up residence on this property. King must have found them.

The Jims babble excitedly, having set up their camera and mic ready to film a report. Apparently, being the best friend of the suspected bringer of the trees made him the perfect interviewing subject. Of course Bing agrees to be interviewed but asks that next time something like this occurs, that they at least give him a chance to change out of his jammies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the little bit at the end here may seem a little tacked on but it was far too short to be its own chapter and kind of pertains to the finding of the trees.


	16. Family Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's nice to spend some time in the shade.

Finding the other trees is a little harder and after a few days of going in circles, King is feeling very run down. There’s a lot of city space to traipse through and it just wears at him having to get through it to find the potential green spaces. See most of this city was once his forest and humans killed it for the sake of ‘progress’ and he’s always hated that.

Just as he’s about to make another run of the block, trying to see if he can pick up the trail again, he’s broken out of his reverie by a hand on his shoulder, almost jumping out his skin.

King breathes a sigh of relief when he sees it’s just Wilford. The pink murderous man has never been that far away, so that as soon as they find another tree, he can instantly get it back home. He’ll disappear for a while sometimes but he’s almost always just in the corner of King’s vision. This time, like most times he’s got this big grin on his face, and wiggles his moustache as he insists there’s something King really ought to see.

Travelling through Wilford’s void always makes King feel sick, and once the trip's over, King is bent double for a moment, Will rubbing gentle circles on the poor dryad’s back, softly chuckling while he apologises. He often forgets that not everyone can handle his void like he can. Once King is feeling better he stands up, realising that he’s in the garden back home and, as he hears gentle talking a short way off, he turns.

There are his trees, safe and sound, just like Dark promised. Wilford didn’t even manage to damage a single leaf when he’d brought them here. Somehow they look that much taller next to the building, the leaves green and vibrant and practically dancing in the soft wind that’s blowing between them.

You see, the weather is often beautiful around this area, plenty of sunshine but with Dark’s strict control over what comes near, there’s never really been any plants or trees, or really much of anything in the garden. But today, with the trees providing suitable shade, it looks like the egos have decided it would be the perfect time for a picnic.

There’s a large blanket for all of them to sit on, though most of them are lounged on it, Ed laid out, his hat on his face. If King were closer, he’s certain he would hear the man snoring. Bim has taken his jacket off and is happily talking with Red and Oliver, enthusiastically gesturing, occasionally stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. Oliver and Red are both smiling as they listen to him.

Green is sat a little way away, splayed out, probably grumbling about how it’s too hot. It’s well known that he struggles the most out of the droids with high temperatures. The Host is laughing at him, his trenchcoat also abandoned, and he turns to speak over his shoulder at the green droid. The Jims are without their equipment, instead running around, probably playing one of those games that only the two of them ever understands, almost falling to the ground as they run into Dark who’s just walking up from indoors. Dark growls at them and the Jims scramble away laughing and getting back to their game.

Silver is sat in his civilian clothing, looking strangely out of place, but if you think about it, superhero outfits are not exactly built for use in higher temperatures. He’s eating what is probably his third sausage roll while laughing at Bing and Google. The blue droid is wearing Bing’s sunglasses, while Bing is leaning over Google’s shoulders, wearing Google’s glasses and laughing a lot. Google looks frustrated but honestly not all that mad, reaching up to try and grab them back, only for Bing to pull out of his reach each time. Eventually though, the droid just reaches until he’s able to grab the back of Bing’s shirt and pulls, flipping Bing over his shoulder so the cyborg lands in his lap, his foot almost kicking Silver’s food out his hands. The three of them burst into laughter as Google claims his glasses back.

Amongst all of them there are various picnic snacks, a vast array of sandwiches, chips and dips, sausage rolls, someone made popcorn, and….is that spaghetti? And it looks like Jim is eating a taco… Okay. There’s a variety of foods, some of which you might not normally see at a picnic but everybody is laughing, and smiling, and sharing, and having an amazing time, all in the shade of King’s trees.

“KING!” Bing spots him and, abandoning his annoyance of Google, runs straight for King and Wilford, the latter having to step away as the cyborg almost tackles King to the ground in the tightest hug possible. King laughs as he reaches up to return it. It’s not even been two weeks but it’s the longest amount of time the two of them have spent apart and damn is it hard. Wilford coughs to remind them he’s there, and Bing pulls back, taking King’s arm and tries to pull him towards the gaggle of egos. He insists that they both come join with the picnic.

King hesitates. He loves this, that his trees are providing joy for his family and that they’re seeing love and respect that he’d never thought he’d witness again, but there’s still more out there and he’s supposed to be bringing them home. Wilford’s hand on his shoulder brings King out of his thoughts.

The pink man smiles and promises that the rest of King’s trees will still be out there tomorrow. That this is a shining moment that’ll be gone if they blink slowly enough. So King shouldn’t worry himself and just enjoy this short sweet moment before the world puts the balance back out of whack. Besides, they all deserve an afternoon off from their individual dramas.

King smiles and doesn’t need telling twice, following Bing over to the picnic blanket where he consumes almost his entire weight in peanut butter sandwiches (Bing insisted they be made, just in case King turned up), and he spends a beautiful afternoon with his family, sat beneath the shade of his trees.


	17. Still Stuck (Natemare)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's times like this that it's hard to remember that I'm not supposed to interfere

It's been three weeks.

Others have come in and tried to make contact with him but he’s ignored every last one. None of them will let him free from this so they are not worth engaging with. So when the music finally  _finally_  stops, cut off after far too long, he looks up tears still streaking down his face to see who has saved him.

Just beyond the plastic wall, absorbed by pressing an array of buttons that Mare doesn’t know or care to understand the function of, is Madpat. Certifiably insane, unavoidably genius, still baring a litany of scars and burns from his run in at that restaurant. Crazy as a bag of cats, and someone Mare would rather stand beside than against.

“Mad?”

“Who are you mad at Mare?” The question is said with conviction as he continues to mess with buttons, a sly smile playing across his lips. “Who do you hate?”

“Dark.” Mare mutters, pulling his legs a little closer.

Mad shakes his head, still grinning. “Oh, I think you can be a  _little_  louder than that. Who do you  _hate_ , Mare?”

Mare reaches up to wipe the tears that have stopped from his face. He knows what Mad is trying to do but it won’t work without him fighting the intense ache thats been sat on his chest the whole time that song has been playing. “Dark.” He manages to growl out as he shifts, stretching and shuffling.

“Why don’t we see” Mad finishes pressing things with a flourish, “if we can reach them in the cheap seats!”  As he continues, he spins for no real reason, stopping in front of the cage wall, his arms thrown wide, eyes ablaze as he dares Mare to nut up all ready and get the fuck out of there. “Who do you  _HATE_!!”

The song and the tears are gone. In its place there’s just anger and hatred, bubbling in his soul, anger…anger at  _ ~~w-who? who are you?~~_  DARK! At this whole building, at every last idiot within these four walls. Mare rises to his feet, the air around him chilling as he gathers himself, stepping forward and passing through the useless walls of his former cage.

Mad’s lip quirks. “ Not even one roar or rage? No? Uh, you really have no sense of dramatics.” he almost sounds disappointed but it’s short lived, melting from his face and replaced almost instantly with a smirk. “Tell me its ready.” Mare smirks back and Mad can’t help but to clap with excitement. “Oh this is gonna be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....oh dear...


	18. Something Wicked . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crazed maniac, a vengeful spirit, and a cyborg meet in a glade...

Bing spends most afternoons hanging out in the shadows of King’s trees. There’s something about sitting beneath their shade that feels like he’s hanging out with his best friend and he can’t help but be drawn to it. As the sun starts to set, there’s this particular point in the afternoon when the light hits the leaves just right and the trees practically seem to glow with life. It has to be some sort of magical tree thing.

He’s waiting for that moment when he spies movement near the building in his peripheral, though he ignores it, instead just staring up from where he’s laid in between the trees. It’s probably the Jims, they come and go like nobody’s business and if they want him for something they’ll come over.

Bing frowns when he hears something hit the ground near him, bouncing across the grass before rolling gently across it. Sitting up, he looks to see that it’s his baseball. That’s weird. He swears he left that in his room. As he looks around trying to see who would have thrown it at him, Bing sees nothing, and so he lays down again. Maybe the Jims or Silver borrowed it and forgot to take it back inside.

“Ow!” Bing bolts up, a hand held to his head as pain erupts where the baseball bounces off it. “What the-!” his words die in his throat as he looks up, expecting to see one of the Jims having thrown the baseball at him, but faced with a stranger.

“ _So_ rry.” the stranger says almost like he’s singing it, his hands clasped behind his back as he shifts between the balls and the flats of his feet. “Couldn’t resist.”

Scrambling to his feet, Bing panics, worried that this dude, whoever he is, is there to hurt the trees. If the trees get hurt, King gets hurt and he would rather die than allow that to happen.

“Oh no. No no.” the man takes a few steps forward, though keeping the distance between them reasonable. Bing instinctively shuffles back a little as a strangely odd looking finger points directly at the cyborg.”You’re what I’m here for.”

Bing’s eyes go wide and about fifty alarm bells ring in his head. There is no time to think about this, Bing immediately climbing to his feet and making a break for the building. Dark carefully controls everything and everyone who comes into this building. There is no way in heck that he let this guy in, and he just happens to want Bing? No. Bing’s all for trying to think the best of people but survival doesn’t come from taking a chance.

Unfortunately, as Bing runs, so does the stranger, practically laughing as he easily passes the cyborg, crouching directly in front of him, his eyes filled with madness and his arms spread wide. “Now don’t be like that. I just want to talk.”

That’s what his words say but the tone, this guy’s eyes, Bing suspects that this talk is going to involve very little actual talking and he needs to get away from this madman _right now_. Bing steps back, his mind immediately filling with a mess of nightmarish visions and strangeness that send him to his knees. Trying to catch his breath, Bing glances over his shoulder, where Natemare stands, waving at him with the hand that just pushed him down.

Turning back, the maniac is still grinning, though he’s no longer in his attack stance, his hands instead clasped before him in glee.

“Well, for now it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...it probably won't end well for one of them.


	19. Been and Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why is nobody ever there when you need them?

“But I’m nobody.” Bing tries to insist as Mad crouches in front of him. He reaches forward, plucking Bing’s glasses from his face, folding them closed before tossing them away and shaking his head emphatically.

“No no no. You are  _so very special_.” The same hand comes back, cupping Bing’s cheek though the cyborg tries and fails to lean away. This is a hundred levels of wrong but he can’t move fast enough to get away, and then there’s Natemare. So he’s forced to just stay on the ground, staring into those mad eyes. There’s something crazy in them, and Bing doesn’t know how he’s going to get out of this.

“I’m just a Bing droid. Google’s much-” SMACK! Bing’s lie is cut off as he’s smacked hard enough for his cheek to turn a bright red. Cradling it, he tries to blink the tears from his eyes before they fall.

“You’re  _not_ a droid.” That strange looking finger is waggling in his face again. His eyes roam over Bing’s form searching for the seams as though they might leap out at him from beneath the skin. “You are something  _far_  more interesting.”

Bing doesn’t like the way this guy is looking at him, still cradling his cheek as he tries again. “I’m just a Bing droid.”

The maniac gives an exasperated sigh and draws back. “Mare.”

Bing’s breath practically stops as Natemare touches the top of his head, filling his mind with visions of dark shapes, shadows and monsters all around him, screaming and shouting, though Bing himself is silent, unable to fight or do anything until Mad nods and Mare lets him go.

Taking desperate gulps of air as he falls forward, Bing stops when Mad uses a single finger to raise his chin so their eyes are forced to meet. Mad’s words falter when he sees the stark difference between Bing’s eyes. The right one is a stark blue, while the left is more dull with flecks of brown. Mad moves the cyborg’s chin this way and that in an attempt to get a better look at the difference.

“Which one is real?” Mad muses before pointing to the left one. “It has to be that one, right? I can’t imagine he’d have purposefully given you an imperfect one.”

Bing’s eyes slip sideways towards the building before flicking back. There’s cameras above the door pointed out into the garden. Dark insists on recording everything in the building, absolutely  _everything_. Something about safety. Oh please,  _please_  let someone be watching the cameras. “What do you want with me?”

Mad’s grin is shiver-inducing as he draws back giving an approving nod to the cyborg. “You’re special, Bing. I need your  _special_  help to do something very important.” his voice is weird, almost like he’s talking to a young child which to Mad, he probably is. Someone so inexperienced and wilfully ignorant that they need to be spoken to like a child so they have every chance of understanding.

“Wh-What kind of help?” If he can stall long enough, someone is going to notice.  _Someone_  is going to see him in trouble on the cameras and come to help. They’re  _going_  to come.

Mad stands up again, brushing himself down as he looks down at Bing who has the sense not to stand with him. “The kind of special help where I don’t actually need you conscious.”

Natemare’s hands have moved, one hovering by each of Bing’s ears, the cyborg oblivious to the movement, opening his mouth to ask, when everything goes black.


	20. (Googleplier)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Google is looking for Bing.

“Bing. You need to…” Google’s words die as he pushes open the cyborg’s bedroom to find the room empty. It’s a mess like it usually is but no sign of Bing anywhere. Not odd. He’s surprisingly active and apart from when he was confined to the building, he didn’t tend to spend a lot of time in here.

Except he isn’t with the Jims, they’re in Wilford’s studio, something about corporate espionage to help improve their newscasts. Silver is at his superheroes anonymous meeting so there’s no impromptu office-chair races going on and King is still out chasing trees.

Trees, of course. Bing is probably laid out with King’s trees again. Well at least the idiot is getting some fresh air and Dark can see someone is using the finally properly purposed garden. If it serves a purpose, he’s less likely to get rid of it.

As he steps into the garden he calls out. There’s no immediate sign of the cyborg but Google wouldn’t put it past him to try and climb the trees to just hide away from the others. So he’s looking up, calling out for Bing as he moves between the trees, when he feels the crunch of something beneath his foot. Bing’s glasses, laid in the grass. That’s not normal.

Bing is kind of sensitive about his eyes, prefers to hide them behind his glasses and always has them to hand. Looking up Google calls out again. Maybe he dropped them from the trees. There’s no response though and something isn’t sitting right with the android when he catches sight of the camera by the door.

Back in the computer lab, it doesn’t take anything to crack into Dark’s camera system. It’s kind of laughable that he thinks that he can retain any kind of digital privacy with four Google droids living in the building.

The camera angle from the garden camera isn’t the greatest but it shows the small still relatively new glade and Google set it to play in reverse, looking out for whenever Bing had to have been there last. It takes 30 seconds to get to the beginning of the day and there was no sign of him, nor anyone else who might have planted the glasses so Google keeps going, letting it continue to track back.

The garden still isn’t used that much, Google himself not having been out there since the group picnic some time ago. Still as the time tracked back, ticking through the hours, they started to mount up and Google’s warning systems were being tripped by the possible implications. Then, THERE!

Pausing the video, Google makes out Bing and two others in between the trees and after a moment he leaves the video to play. He can’t hear anything being said but more than once, Bing can be seen looking directly at the camera before Natemare does something and the cyborg collapses to the ground. Within seconds, Google is on his feet and out the door.

The timestamp of the video is from two days ago.


	21. Emergency Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good Ol' Google.

Dark stands at the head of the table, a dark grey trail of blood running from his nose, his cheek looking as though, were it to have color, it would be bruised. To his left sits Google, sat rigid, though somewhat smug given that he’s fairly certain he managed to break Dark’s nose.

The other egos, all except King of the Squirrels and Wilford, are present, even the Jims have their ears pressed to the outside of the door listening in. Dark has just explained Bing’s disappearance and what starts as a quiet grumbling amongst the gathered slowly raises in volume until the ringing that follows Dark everywhere raises to a near deafening pitch, drowning them all out, forcing them all into a worried hush before dulling again to the background.

“One at a time.” Dark grits through his teeth, rubbing at his forehead, willing his growing headache away.

It takes time to convince everyone present that there is  _nothing_  to be concerned with, that they are  _going_ to get Bing back, and that  **absolutely no one**  is breathe a word of this to King of the Squirrels or Wilford, both of whom are still on their tree retrieval mission. If they play this right it’ll all be sorted before they even come back and this situation is a mess without bringing the two of them in.

“Is that everything?” his question is dripping with finality, not really being a question, more of a period to the end of this nightmare of a meeting.

BLAM!

The door to the meeting room slams open, Jim stepping forward, daring to move into the room with his arm raised, Other Jim looking afraid and trying to pull his brother back.

“Why are you bleeding?”

Google’s smirk widens as Dark silently fumes, his shell cracking to show his barely contained rage to those gathered, everybody at the table shuffling back in their chairs. Other Jim manages to pull his brother back to the other side of the door’s threshold as Google stands.

“Dark learned a lesson.” Is all the droid says. It’s firm and quiet and final, though his smirk doesn’t help to assuage Dark’s anger roaring for everyone to  **get out now!!**

Other Jim drags his brother away. Nobody else hesitates to make themselves scarce.


	22. Was Blind But Now I See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never make friends with a man called Mad. I certainly won't make that mistake again.

“We need to take him out of there.” Mare says through gritted teeth, frustrated with repeating himself for the fifth time.

“Later.” The same response Mad has given the last two days. It takes a few more twists before Mad grins and with an uncharacteristically gentle pull, he removes the arm off the unconscious cyborg laid out in his lab, holding it aloft and staring at it in awe. “Would you look at that?”

“Twenty minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”  It’s hard to attempt to reason with someone who’s name is  _literally_  Mad, but this is starting to get out of hand. “You promised you wouldn’t go overboard with this.”

Turning to glare at Mare, Mad tosses the arm a bit more carelessly to the side, it lands on a nearby wheely table that rolls a little at the sudden weight. “He’ll be  _fine_ , Mare. Why do you have such a fucking conscience all of a sudden?”

“I don’t. You-”

“Then shut up and let me work!” Mad turns back, leaning in to take a better look at where the arm had been attached to the human body marvelling at the fusion of technology and flesh laid bare before him. Mad’s already removed the leg and as soon as the external life support is set up, he’ll make a start on the chest. That’s where the good stuff is. Things that Mad has only seen talked about in theory, he’s almost giddy at the prospect of seeing it in practice.

Mare goes silent but continues to silently stew from the side. He doesn’t care what Mad says, the cyborg needs to come out of his active nightmare soon or there’s gonna be problems.  Mare’s normal nightmares are like jumpscares, initially scary but as time goes on you realise how stupid you were to have been caught off-guard by them. Active nightmares though, the longer you’re left in them…let’s just say there are consequences.

I mean, sure, the cyborg’s active nightmare was pretty fun to put together, and the opportunity to dick with Dark’s new golden boy is hardly one Mare was gonna pass up, but Mare knows what it’s like to be trapped, and even with the tactical advantages of keeping the guy compliant and unconscious, he’s hardly going to get far without his arm and leg attached.

Mad though isn’t reasonable at the best of times and now that he’s got what he’s wanted for a long time, he’s reluctant to let it go even for five minutes. The meticulous study of the cyborg continues. Two days turn into three, the external life support is set up and still Mad refuses to let Mare wake him up. Keeps saying about how he’s too deep, up to his elbows in new information , how there’s still so much to learn before he can take a break.

Three days turn into five and Mare is starting to flicker, his form becoming unstable in his anger as he starts to argue louder, though Mad has never been afraid of the spirit, laughing off his very real threats. One of the disadvantages of threatening someone who got stuck in a restaurant when it burned down, who also happens to be a maniac, nothing you say holds any weight in their eyes.

A few more days and Mare has given up trying to maintain his corporeal form around Mad. Too much anger, too much frustration to hold it together and so, in his pure spirit form he watches, eyes locked on the cyborg’s face as Mad continues to work. The cyborg is still sound asleep, not a peep having been heard from the moment Mare put him to sleep, but yesterday tears started falling over his cheeks from under closed lids. He’s been in there too long and Mare can see his need for revenge against Dark for what it is.

For now he’s playing the waiting game. Some point soon Mad is going to have to stop. It’s been a week and like a kid with a new toy, he hasn’t eaten or slept, forgoing the essentials, fuelled by his excitement, and Mare can see the weariness beginning to drag on him even as he continues to look and study.

There’s a small pile of journals growing beside Mad, each one packed with everything, every little detail that Mad has observed, every theory disproved, everything that turns out to actually work. So much new information, but it’s still not enough for him. That’s why he’s pushing his limits. It’s what he needs to make sure nobody ever underestimates him again.

Another couple of hours pass before he just has to stop, his eyes dragging themselves closed and making it so he simply cannot go any further. Reluctantly he leaves to sleep, knowing that as long as he’s in this room, he’ll still be compelled to work.

This is Mare’s opportunity. He has to act fast.


	23. Getting Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried to stop Mare going to them. I really did.

Wilford hasn’t really spent much time with the King of the Squirrels before this quest of theirs. In the building, King is considered one of the younger or…lesser (Wilford doesn’t like that term) egos. He’s ‘less of a contributor’ by Dark’s definition and the head of the building often tells Wilford not to get too attached to them. Not that Will usually does what Dark says but it’s the squirrels. Strange little creatures that tend to stare directly into Will’s soul when he ventures too near. Unnerving.

Though initially he would wait until King contacted him before arriving to use his void to safely move the tree home, Will has gradually gravitated towards hanging with King more and more. Bim’s more than able to hold the fort without him and Will doesn’t get out all that much. It’s nice to see the world outside every once in a while, remember that it’s there.

And it’s been somewhat fascinating to see and feel the gradual shift of power within the squirrel man. With every tree they’ve recovered and returned to the building, King seems to walk a little taller, hold himself a little more confident, his clumsiness is less frequent and there’s a definite change, a shift in the air around him.

The two of them are sat in one of the billion coffee places that apparently litter the country these days. Wilford’s drink is obviously more sugar than coffee, while King’s black coffee stands untouched. It could have something to do with the stranger who came up and called him Kyle but Will guessed that maybe it would be something King wouldn’t want to talk about so he didn't question it.

They’re sat just talking casually, watching the world pass by around them when Wilford senses something, and within seconds, his gun is in his hands, rising to his feet and turning, pointing his weapon at the intruder. The entire coffee shop around them devolves into chaos, people running out the door, screaming, but the soul the gun points at doesn’t budge an inch. Natemare.

King leaps to his feet making to rush the spirit, stopped only by Wilford who’s extended his free arm to hold him back. It wouldn’t do for the dryad to attack the guy who induces nightmares.

“I thought you were in a cage.” The last they’d heard he was trapped, still in the makeshift prison back at the building and his being here is not a good thing. Though Natemare looks somewhat grumpier than what one might expect of a recently free man.

“I need your help.”

Wilford clicks back the hammer on his gun and straightens his aim at Mare’s chest. “Gladly.” He goes to pull the trigger.

“You can shoot me, or you can help me save Bing.”

Eyes going wide, King shouts for Wilford to stop, desperately trying to reach across and knock his gun arm, but the one holding him back is too strong. The bullet rips through the air, passing straight through Natemare who looks more than a little pissed. King’s heart stops, restarting again only when he remembers that Natemare’s a ghost. Already dead.

“Wilford.” King says as calmly as he can manage. He tries to reach around Will’s outstretched arm and guide the gun arm down but he can’t reach. “Maybe we should put down the gun and listen.”

It takes a few moments of angered glaring but Will lowers the barrel, the weapon disappearing back into his void, but the arm holding King back stays raised. King isn’t trying to push past him any more but Will knows that even with his slowly growing strength, he won’t stand much of a chance should Natemare turn on them.

Once he’s sure that Wilford isn’t going to attack, King looks over to Natemare. “What do you mean, ‘save Bing’?”


	24. Do Not Lie To Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor King. I'm so so sorry.

The door to the computer lab slams open and Green looks up, expecting to have to tell the Jims to get lost only to see King of the Squirrels stood in the doorway.

“Where’s Google!” He’s gasping for breath and clearly distraught as he takes a few steps in, looking around in desperation.

“Aren’t you suppos-”

“Google!” he snaps.

Green frowns and says Google mentioned something about a meeting with Dark, and the Host in Dark’s office. Before Green’s able to say anything else, King is gone.

Tearing through the hallways, King tries to push away the still fresh memories from that dirty, crusted workshop that Natemare had taken them to. No matter how much he tries to block it out, he can still hear the wheezing noises from that shoddy looking machine that had to be doing Bing’s breathing because his chest was just- King pushed himself to race faster, refusing to think about it.

Violently throwing open the door to Dark’s office, he sees the three of them stood there. They all have confused looks on their faces and King just sees red. Taking long strides to cross the office, he tries to throw himself at the grey ego but is stopped when Google wraps both his arms around King’s chest and holds him back.

Dark, Google and the Host are surprised, all having thought that King was still out finding his trees. He tries to lash out, struggling against the robot’s hold on him, shouting in anger, calling Dark a monster, an emotionless husk and swearing to make him pay for what he’s done. From outside Dark’s office window, there are ominous creaks from the trees that now live in the garden.

While they watch King fight, the Host seems concerned, while Google is focused on keeping him back, but Dark looks unbothered which just infuriates King more. The grey ego turns to Google and calmly requests that he take King outside to calm down until he’s willing to converse like a  _reasonable_  adult. As Google starts to pull him outside, King’s anger comes to a head and he shouts with every ounce of anger in his soul.

“WE FOUND BING YOU ASSHOLE!”

Google stops, and the room falls silent, everyone in shock, except for King whose tears have broken loose, pouring over his cheeks as he slumps slightly in arms around him. He chokes on a sob. “I didn’t even know he was gone.”

The Host steps forward and explains that they didn’t want to worry him, that they were hoping to bring Bing home before King would find out, his reassurances acting as a distraction as he calmly places his hand on King’s shoulder and takes a look in the dryad’s mind to see what they’re dealing with. Both Google and Dark are silent as the seconds pass, both waiting for the Host’s assessment.

Moving his hand from King’s shoulder, the Host reaches to gently cradle King’s cheek, brushing away a tear.

“Wilford is bringing him home.” he speaks softly and firmly, almost like he is trying to reassure King as he informs the others of what he’s found out. He turns to Google. “ _All_  of the Googles will need to be present on his arrival. King will make sure the clinic is prepared.” he addresses the last part to King as Google lets him go. As soon as he’s free King heads to the door, slower, less angry than before.

Google waits until King is gone before he turns to the self-appointed self-important leader of this building.

“If he’s been hurt, Dark. I swear-”

“Google.” the Host speaks firmly, his stern grounded voice reminding Google that he has a job to do. Anger can come later. Google leaves, his eyes glowing blue with determination and already sending a message to the others to get to the clinic.

With the others gone, Dark takes in everything that’s just happened, breaking from his reverie as the Host begins to leave.

“What do  _I_  do?” he calls. The Host stops and turns back to Dark.

“The Host rather thinks you’ve done enough.”


	25. Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why can't I change any of this? I'd have thought I'd have the power.

Host enters the clinic to chaos, stopping in the doorway, the raised voices throwing him for a moment. Anger and panic are heavy in the air, and though Natemare isn’t visible, the Host can sense his presence somewhere nearby. He can hardly blame the spirit for stepping back.

As he steps forward, the Host doesn’t hesitate to remove the gun from Wilford’s hand, placing his own on the pink man’s shoulder in an attempt to try and calm his anger, while receiving an understanding of what’s going on in return.

Bing is in a bad way, to put it mildly. You can hardly call him a cyborg now, practically every robotic part having been removed while he’s attached to an external life support that Wilford brought with him. Even such a small, simple journey has apparently put a huge amount of stress on Bing’s body.

The Host doesn’t have a large understanding of Natemare’s powers, but through Wilford’s eyes, he sees the explanation the spirit gave about Bing’s mental state and the anger that even now is flying between the Doctor and Google over what to do next. Bing  _needs_  to be awoken but he’s barely stable. Waking him could send him into shock, or worse. From Natemare’s explanation, leaving him in there is no better. It would appear to be a decision of trial by fire or trial by drowning.

Dr Iplier moves as the Host steps to Bing’s side, taking a hold of the boy’s hand and trying to see inside his mind. Perhaps there’s something he can do to help, but it’s useless. Bing’s mind is protected, surrounded by a writhing black mass that lashes out whenever the Host attempts to draw near. An educated guess would make that the nightmare Bing is trapped in.

Removing his hand, the Host attempts to mediate, or at the very least find some kind of compromise between the two increasingly angry parties, but it would seem that in everybody’s panic they are unable to think beyond the immediate confines of their own decision.

His own anger rises, and he’s two minutes from using his powers against the pair of them when he feels an all too familiar darkness, one that sends shivers down his spine. It passes over them, all of them, swathing them all in a terrifyingly familiar calming presence of pure black. Host can’t help but to stumble back in fear at the sensation, caught unawares by a pair of hands clasping his shoulders and holding him in place. Wilford, he learns as he reaches to touch one of the hands. Through Wilford’s eyes, Host sees what everyone else can, hearing the silence that’s fallen over them all, making way for the high-pitched ringing.

On the far end of the room stands Dark, his eyes closed, his head bowed and the darkness that surrounds them emanating from him in waves. Knowing the origin of this darkness, the Host comes back to himself. It’s not what he thought. He’s safe. It’s not  _him_.

“Natemare.” Host calls and the spirit manifests at Bing’s head. “Wake Bing up now.” He knows what Dark is trying to do, as does Google and Wilford, though the younger egos are simply shocked into silence.

“But what about-?” Mare is cut off by Google who is suddenly moving with purpose, gathering what he can and moving round to begin repairing the essential parts of Bing while they have the chance.

“Just do it.”

Mare places a hand on either side of Bing’s head, closing his eyes, and within seconds, Bing’s left eye goes wide, taking a deep breath as though he’s about to start screaming, but Dark steps forward, those gathered around the bed moving away as Dark raises his hand and the darkness around them gets stronger. It’s wrapped around them all like coats that are too tight but they watch as the blackness visibly seeps into the poor cyborg’s brain and he gently sighs as he calms into a much less harmful sleep.

Dark’s aura, the distortion, the darkness that follows him everywhere is what currently surrounds them all. It’s a being of great power, of great possibility and Dark barely has a handle on it, allowing it to just surround him, using him as an anchor in this world and acting as it sees fit. Host has only seen the grey ego purposefully use it a handful of times, and each time they have watched it fight him every step of the way. Even now, they can all see Dark’s hand wavering as he tries to centre it around Bing’s mind, keeping the cyborg from further injury allowing Google to make it so Bing will function without the external life support.

The other three droids step forward, joining their brother in reconstructing Bing’s chest, working swiftly and in perfect unison, presumably communicating over their private network as no words pass between them. Wilford still has his hands on the Host, which honestly the Host is grateful for. Dark is not the only one with access to this power and Host’s last encounter with the other one he knows has access to it…let’s just say it doesn’t class as a win. Losing your eyes usually doesn’t. Host will never forget how it feels to be surrounded, to feel completely at the mercy of this power. Some nights it still haunts him to the point of screaming, but being able to see through Wilford’s eyes that it’s not coming from  ** _Him_** , is enough to help him remain calm.

Time both drags and races, the only real indicator that any time is passing is the visibly increasing strain on Dark as he fights to maintain the aura around them. Where before it was pulsing out from him, each of them can feel it trying to draw back, watching as the look of determination on Dark’s face only becomes more and more so. Sweat is starting to drip down Dark’s face, and through his contact with Wilford, the Host can feel the pink man’s need to do something to help his friend.

“ _Google_.” is all Wilford says, the concern in his voice matching the stress in the room. The ringing is getting higher and higher, and any moment now, Host worries that it’s going to snap and everything will have been for naught. The robots don’t respond, continuing to work.

Dark takes a firm grip of the end of the gurney, his grey knuckles turning a stark white, his raised hand falling slightly. All facade of calm and control has gone, nothing but pain and strain as he tries to hold on for every last second he can get them.

After what feels like an age, Google yells for Dark to stop and he can’t help it, he lets the aura go, every last one of them in the room feeling it rush past them and return to where  _it_  decides it wants to be. Wilford’s hands are gone from the Host, the pink man having rushed over to catch Dark as he fell, holding him up. Dark’s grey skin looks pale, though he remains conscious as he grasps tightly to his friend. Standing up is going to be difficult for a while.

“Wh-what happened?” comes a small voice from the bed.

Bing’s chest looks practically whole again, though his right eye, arm, and leg are still gone, and the poor boy looks so lost as he glances over the gathered egos around him.”D-Did I kill s-someone else?”

The collective sigh of relief never happens as everyone realises that first, that’s not something Bing should be saying, and second, Natemare has suddenly made himself scarce.


	26. Mare and Madpat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Mare. Every action has a consequence.

The last place Mare should be is in Mad’s workshop, but he isn’t exactly going to be wanted around by the egos. It seems it’s not just Dark that weird kid managed to charm but damn near every last one of them and now they have him back, Mare is going to be top of their shit list. Not to mention that Dark’s made it more than abundantly clear that he isn’t welcome in that building. Mare has no one and nowhere else and so to the workshop he heads.

Mad is awake, sat tinkering at a desk in silence and Mare does all he can to make no noise.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mare.” Mad’s voice is disturbingly calm, cutting through the air and freezing Mare in place. Mad has always had sort of a sixth sense for Mare’s presence. "It was exactly what I was looking for.  _Exactly_  what I needed.”

“You’re hardly a paragon of promise yourself.” Mare is smart enough to keep his distance. Though his greatest friend, Mad is still mad, and knows how to capture Mare if he should feel so inclined. “He was in there a week. If you’d just  _listened_  to me-”

“They’re going to be prepared for you. They know where I am.” Mad continues, he still won’t turn, his voice still even and Mare almost wants Mad to go crazy, this even-headedness is just so unnerving. “You have completely eradicated your worth to me and my endeavours.” Mare scowls. His best friend. Just like Dark. Only cares about Mare when there’s something he can get out of it. “I’m almost sorry that it’s come to this….almost.”

Reaching forward, Mad presses a button and four old speakers, one hanging in each corner of the room, crackle into life. Too late Natemare realises what’s happening and though he shouts in anger, that old music box music winds into life. Mare tries to block it out with his hands over his ears but it’s useless.

Two verses pass and the tears he fights back break through, another verse and Mare drops to his knees, holding himself tight and fighting hard not to sob aloud. He doesn’t see Mad gather everything from around the workshop, the tools, the trinkets, the debris. Every scrap of metal, every piece of equipment, everything of  _real_  use to him is gathered and removed, piece by piece. He doesn’t see how Mad refuses to look at him, or how Mad’s angered glare doesn’t drop for a single second before he leaves for the last time.

The speakers and the music don’t leave and it’s twenty straight minutes before Mare has the strength open his eyes. Mad is gone. He’s alone. Completely and utterly alone  ~~ _just like then_~~. Mare’s form flickers as he falls to the floor, his eyes closing again. Nobody is going to come here. Nobody is going to find him. They never do. They never find him.


	27. Bedroom Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is hiding in Dark's bed.

“I’m telling you, I  _don’t_ need help.”

“And  _I_  already told  _you_ , shut up.” Wilford continues to support Dark through the corridors to the grey ego’s bedroom. It’s on the higher floors of the building, far enough away that when the grey idiot does take it upon himself to rest, he can do so without needing to worry about distractions being outside his door.

Dark is visibly nervous as they draw closer to his room, and attempts to get Wilford to leave him at the doorway, insisting he can get himself to his own bed. Unfortunately, the second Wilford lets go, Dark half-collapses against the door, the pink moustache man smirking at him. He knew that would happen, and he still let it happen. Sometimes it can fun to be an ass to Dark.

“Not one word.” Dark says through gritted teeth, trying to pull himself up again.

Wilford just laughs and shakes his head, pulling Dark back to his feet and pushing the door wide open.

–*–

He feels it before he sees it and without thinking, Wilford moves Dark behind him, drawing his gun and pointing it at the visible lump under the covers of the bed as he moves forward

“Wilford stop!” Dark yells, trying to reach for weapon. The lump shifts, a messy crop of green hair appearing from beneath the cover, followed by confused, blue eyes that widen at the sight of the gun.

“…Dark?” comes a quiet, sleepy voice.

“Wilford, for God’s sake put down the gun!” Dark roars.

The green haired stranger sits up and the covers fall, showing him to be wearing one of Dark’s casual shirts. It takes a moment but Wilford puts two and two together and carefully lowers his gun. He doesn’t put it away though as he moves to help Dark sit on the end of the bed. Dark refuses to meet Wilford’s gaze and the stranger shifts until he’s sat on the side of the bed, his legs hanging off the side as he nervously runs a hand through his messy hair.

“I should leave.” Green-hair mutters as he moves to stand.

“Sit down, Marvin.” Dark’s voice is firm but not angered as it would be with most other people. Marvin sits down again. 

Wilford frowns at Dark, tapping his gun expectantly against his thigh as he looks between the two of them.  “I’m waiting.” Marvin looks incredibly nervous, as you would be if you woke up to a gun pointed in your face. He keeps glancing over to Dark, who honestly just looks tired.

“Do we have to do this  _right now_?” Dark asks. “I don’t exactly have the energy for this.”

Wilford considers it. Of all the egos not to let this go, the pink show host is at the top of the list, but Dark did just overdo things down in the clinic, and he really should get some rest. 

“Fine.” With a flourish, Wilford returns the gun to his void and points at the grey ego. “But if you don’t give me an explanation by tomorrow morning, I get to tell everyone you’re hiding an elf in your bed.”

Dark doesn’t nod or smile, but Wilford knows he agrees, in the way that only old friends can know. With a slight overdramatic bow to Marvin, Wilford bids them both goodbye and heads for the door.

“And Dark.” he pauses in the open doorway, turning back with a smirk. “Don’t do something that stupid again.”

The door closes and Wilford’s footsteps disappear down the corridor. The two of them say nothing, but when he’s certain they’re alone, Marvin shuffles closer. Dark turns, seeing the concern on the magician’s  face and reaches to take Marvin’s hand in his own, giving it a squeeze to reassure him.

“If you say sorry,” Dark says calmly, “I’m going to hit you.”

Marvin bites his lip and snickers as he leans against Dark. He just about manages not to say it.


	28. New Resident

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will, remember who you are, not how you came to be.

The room is silent as Dark strides through the room. Each seat is filled, Bing and King’s chairs having been taken by a Jim each, a one-time exception to the no-jims-in-the-meeting-room rule. It’s easier to speak with everyone at once than to expect word of mouth to carry.

They are all clearly fascinated by the green-haired man who walks behind Dark, while Marvin avoids meeting anyone’s gaze as best he can. It doesn’t escape Dark’s attention that Wilford’s eyes are locked on the cane he’s using to help him walk. He had hoped the pink man wouldn’t notice.

Despite doing nothing else after retiring to his room the day before, and nothing this morning except calling this meeting, Dark is still weak, able to hold himself fairly well, but the moment he tries to move forward unaided, his legs shake and he would rather use the cane than risk collapsing.

The grey ego walks to his seat at the head of the table, purposefully moving the cane where he knows Wilford won’t be able to see it before leaning it against the side of the table. He turns and gestures for Marvin to stand beside Wilford waiting until the magician is in place before he straightens his jacket. The cane is a potential trigger for a Wilford meltdown, and the safest place in the event of that happening would be right behind the pink man.

“I assume that Wilford has kept his promise of spreading word about the ‘elf in my bed’.” Vague mutterings of agreement are punctuated by a Jim complaining louder than anyone that Marvin doesn’t look much like an elf. Marvin sniggers.

Wilford’s eyes are trained very purposefully on the table, his gaze kind of hollow and Dark has half a mind on the madman as he continues. “When I brought each of you here I told you it was to protect you. That there’s something out there that is a danger to us all.

“Marvin is here for the same reason, though his danger is not the same, his need for protection and camaraderie is.” He’s using that voice, the one that no one can usually find themselves disagreeing with. “As you know, I am not one for sleeping so I offered him my bed.

“Does anyone have any objections to this?”

Nobody says a word, even when Dark makes eye contact with each of those that he can. His gaze is a threat, but less an ‘agree with me or you will suffer’ one and more of a ‘trust me I know what I’m doing’ one.

“It was my intention to introduce Marvin to you once we better understood what was happening with Bing, but obviously my hand has been forced. It is my intention to have him remain in this building so that he may have the same protection we offer each other.”

He waits a few minutes and once he feels he’s given everyone ample opportunity to raise their concerns, he straightens his jacket once again.

“If that is all gentlemen I believe we are on the verge of a Code Pink.” Everyone’s eyes flit over to Wilford who’s eyes are still hollow, and focused on the table. His lips have drawn back into a toothy, equally hollow grin, and each of them knows what is soon to follow. “Google if you would please take care of Marvin while I handle this.”

Slowly, so as to make no sudden movements, each of them stand and make their way to the door, Google guiding Marvin to follow them, nobody saying a word as everyone except Dark and Wilford exits the room.

“What’s Code Pink?” Marvin asks once the door carefully closes behind them. Three gunshots sound off in quick succession and the droid wraps himself around the back of the magician, knowing that his casing will better deflect any errant bullets that may pass through the door.

Nobody answers the question, though Marvin soon decides after another two swift shots, that he maybe doesn’t want to know.


	29. Sweet Dreams: King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Bing in that nightmare world?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters titled Sweet Dreams are what Bing was 'dreaming' of while he was in the active nightmare for a week.

Bing is sat in the bare garden, knees pulled to his chest as he rocks back and forth nervously. There used to be trees that towered high above where he sat. To the others they were just trees but to Bing they were the last connection to his best friend in the whole world. King was out looking for his forest and apparently had found somewhere he wanted to live more than the building.

Of course the cyborg hadn’t believed Dark when the leader told Bing that King wasn’t coming back. There was no way King would just up and leave, at the very least without saying goodbye. But the next morning, Bing comes outside and the trees are gone. Every last one. He’d run to King’s old section of the building to find that gone too. No longer needed, the squirrels and the recovery rooms and even King’s room, vanished like they’d never been there.

As the wind blows past Bing, there’s a faint tingle that’s almost like King is still there. Like there’s someone somewhere who is thinking about him. It doesn’t last though, breaking like crackers and blowing away.

Of course King doesn’t care about him. He has to take care of his trees now. He has real responsibility. Entertaining a cyborg really can’t be high on the list of an ancient tree spirit’s duties.

The garden feels dead without the trees. Like it was never really alive in the first place. Like….not like a garden at all.

Bing continues to rock back and forth, listening to the wind and the approaching storm.

King’s not coming back.


	30. Sweet Dreams: Google

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Bing in that nightmare world? Google edition

“I-I had a dream last night.” Bing stutters while Google is tweaking with the wiring in his right hand. It’s been playing up again and Google is finally free to give it a look. It’s been a busy time what with…well…Google’s just been busy is all.

“Did you?” The disinterest in Google’s tinny robotic voice is the same as it ever is when Bing tries to engage him in conversation.

“Y-yeah.” he waits but Google says nothing else and Bing’s eyes slip to the side as he does his best not to just fall into the silence that he knows Google’s come to expect of him. “You a-asked m-me if I was o-okay.”

Google frowns seeming to consider it for a moment before he shakes his head. “That doesn’t sound like me.”

…No…No it doesn’t. Bing’s head drops and he picks at a piece of fluff on his pants as he falls into the silence. It’s a nice thought but a foolish one. Google asking how he is, wondering if Bing is all right. As though Google could ever see him as anything but a defect. There’s a harsh tug on his wrist.

“Stop shifting, or I’ll leave you like this another week.” Google’s words are harsh and biting. Nothing like the Google in his dream. Why was he even bringing this up?

“S-sorry.” Bing mutters, doing his best to keep from moving as Google goes back to working on his wrist. It’s not like he can look after himself, so the least Bing could do to show his gratitude to Google, would be to just let him do his job. It’s another five minutes before Google lets his wrist go, straightening his tools, and without so much as looking at the cyborg, tells Bing that it’s done.

“I’m not going to fix this again, understand?” he says as he stands, and they both know that it isn’t a question. As he turns away, Google tells Bing to close the door on his way out.

Bing flexes the fingers on his robotic hand once before just standing and slowly making his way out. It was so nice of Google to take the time to sort it. He really shouldn’t keep him any more.

As he reaches the door, Google calls out to him and Bing stops, one hand on the door frame as he turns. Google is stood facing him, that same stern look he always wears.

“ _Real_  robots don’t dream.”

Bing shrinks under the unspoken accusation. Right. Right. He mutters an apology as he leaves. Just as the door closes, he could almost swear that he hears Google mumble “Idiot.”

Yeah. That sounds more like Google.


	31. Sweet Dreams: Dr Iplier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happening in Bing's nightmare? Dr Iplier edition

Dr Iplier is sat in his usual chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration as he does in every single session he’s ever run with Bing, while the cyborg is sat across from him, cutting his story short and going silent.

Most sessions go the same way. Bing comes in, Dr Iplier asks one or two questions and Bing manages to get onto something that’s actually bothering him. But, after maybe a few minutes, the doc will roll his eyes, or sigh heavily, generally make a big show of how bored or uninterested he is in what Bing’s talking about until the cyborg stops.

“Sorry, doc.” Bing mutters, bowing his head slightly. If the cyborg hadn’t accidentally run himself to less than 10% more than once in the last few weeks, leading to Dark insisting on these ‘therapy’ sessions, Bing knows the doctor wouldn’t even be here.

“It’s one thing to  _say_  you’re sorry Bing. But have you ever considered just not being a jackass?”

Yeah. Yeah he thinks about it all the time. And he tries really hard.  _Really_  hard. He does his best not to make too much noise, he tries not to disturb or upset anyone, he stopped the dumb sports that nobody liked him doing, he said nothing when his best friend left forever. He doesn’t bother the Googles any more, doesn’t even go near them, he doesn’t encourage the Jims or distract Silver from his superhero ambitions. But everybody just seems so bothered by Bing just being there, and the only thing he can think of doing is not turning up to meetings, but Dark has made it clear that that’s not going to happen. Bing honestly doesn’t know what else he could possibly do!

He’s learned better than to say any of this. That would just make him seem arrogant like he knows everybody says he used to be. He’s getting better though, just a little bit.

Dr Iplier asks another question and the session continues much in the same way. A few moments of talking followed by a rhetorical question and several beats of silence. Eventually the doc throws his arms up in frustration, declaring that he’s had as much of Bing’s bullshit as he can take today and telling Bing to just leave. There’s probably still another half an hour of the session to go but Bing knows better than to say anything, slowly making his way out and apologising again for wasting the doc’s time.


	32. Sweet Dreams: Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in Bing's nightmare? Dark edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS - death, loss of family, severe grief

The room is silent, it has been for the last fifteen minutes, while Bing sits in Dark’s office. He knows better than to say anything without being asked a question. When Dark is ready to initiate whatever this meeting is for, Bing will know it and then, and only then, will he be allowed to speak. In the meantime, the grey leader is sat going through a few files that have been left on his desk.

Eventually though, they’re put aside, Dark stands and straightens himself, cracking his broken body and looking down at the cyborg before he speaks.

“Your mother is dead.”

**. . . .**

“Wha-what?” The world shrinks around him, as Bing’s breath stutters and catches in his chest. “H-how?”

There’s no response. Dark hates it when Bing gets emotional, it’s stupid and he won’t tolerate that kind of bullhonky. And though Bing is almost certain that he’s done his best to hold in the pain, as he felt something just  _rip_  through his chest like a serrated knife, he feels a tear roll down his cheek. Stuttering out an apology, he reaches up desperate to hide it.

It takes forever for him to wipe his face clean, new tears falling to replace those he removes. Jutting out his chin, holding his breath and doing his best to mimic Google’s stoic face, the  _real robot_ ’s lack of emotion, Bing tries to swallow the lump in his throat.

Dark just watches and Bing waits. If he asks again, Dark will never tell him. If he leaves before Dark dismisses him, Bing will be excluded from meetings. If he cries, Dark will order Dr Iplier to stop their sessions…..not that they do much of anything but he gets the feeling he might have a greater need of his next session.

Eventually, Dark calmly explains that there was a break in, she took a nasty fall and was admitted to hospital. She passed away shortly after.

“Did she-did she die alone?” Bing manages to ask without cracking his mask of indifference.

Dark doesn’t smile, but his lips quirk in that way they do when he doesn’t sympathise with someone’s pain, when he’s not quite enjoying their suffering but he’s not quite  _not_  enjoying it either. “What does it matter?”

After he’s dismissed, Bing simply stands and leaves, striding through the corridors and feeling as though he’s being held together by nothing more than tape, likely to fall apart any second. He’s half way back to his room when the tears break free because he just can’t hold them in. He runs, speeding down the halls as fast as his legs can carry him, desperate to get to his room before his sobbing draws someone to him.

The door slams behind Bing as he gets there, a click as the door is locked and a light thud as Bing knocks his forehead against the door. The half sob he lets out breaks the carefully constructed wall he’d tried to hide his emotions behind, all of them cascading out as he lets loose his pain in a heart-wrenching cry.

Bing slumps to the floor as his legs give way and fold under him and surely he must be screaming the pain out of him, but it’s not going anywhere, sitting heavy in his chest like a rock. His tears, his screams, his pain, do nothing to blur out the image of his mother dying completely alone.

‘It matters’ he should have told Dark, should have screamed it at him. It matters. It matters to him if his momma was alone, if she was hurt, if she was scared. Bing should have told Dark that but he didn’t. Because he’s a coward. An asshole of a son. If his momma could see him now, she would be ashamed.


	33. Sweet Dreams: Jim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to Bing in that nightmare world? Jim edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - DEATH, BLOOD (minimal), SEVERE GRIEF  
> This is a nightmare and did not actually happen

Bing’s fingers are shaking. Jim is screaming. Other Jim is silent. There’s blood. There’s panic. It-It can’t-! This can’t be real!

Jim is howling as he scrabbles to pull his brother closer, lashing out at any of them who come near. His brother isn’t dead, he screams, he’ll wake up any second now. It’s just a prank! It’s a horrible prank!

Red is the one who manages to pull Jim away, having to use more strength than I think anyone expects to keep him back as Green scoops up the form of Jim’s lifeless brother and carries him away.

Bing glimpses the blood running down Other Jim’s face and he stumbles back. He didn’t… He didn’t mean to…. His apology dies in his throat as he realises that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter how sorry he is. Nobody will want to hear it. His apologies are worthless.

Bing jumps as a firm grip takes him by the arm and forcefully drags him towards the door. Google, eyes ablaze with fury, is dragging him away, pulling Bing through the corridors, though they can still hear Jim screaming long after they’ve left.

It’s not until they’re in the computer lab that it even occurs to Bing where they’re going, trying to pull back when he sees the small plastic prison room tucked away in the corner. Google though doesn’t even falter and when they get to the door, he all but tosses the cyborg inside and slams the door behind him.

Bing stumbles but returns to the wall, pressing his hands flat against it, tears streaming down his face as he begs with Google not to do this! Please! It w-wasn’t-! He d-didn’t-!

Everything shorts out when Google turns the walls on, an electric current dancing along them, the whole room humming into life. The current passes straight into Bing, tripping everything in him and he crumples to the ground as his robotic half shuts down almost completely. 

Everything goes into emergency reset, though it does nothing to stop the panic attack and breathing problems that came with the momentary loss of his internal life support. Slowly everything comes back online and Bing, glitching, everything hurting, carefully pushes himself up.

As he looks through the wall, he sees Google stood at the controls, a look of seething and pure hatred directed right at him. Bing glitches, collapses to the floor again and just lays there, his eyes closed. He doesn’t have the strength to move. He doesn’t have the right. He didn’t mean to. He would never-

Except he did. Jim is dead and it’s all on him. Jim’s blood is on his hands.  _No one_  will ever forgive him. No one ever should.

Time passes, he doesn’t know how much, when he hears the walls shut down, followed by a loud shout of  **MURDERER!!**  He’s barely moved when he can feel a tightness around his neck, and his eyes shoot open in panic to see Jim.

Jim’s eyes are filled with a rage unlike Bing has ever seen. Jim’s crying as his hands, wrapped around Bing’s neck, squeeze tighter and tighter, trying to squeeze the very life out of the man who killed his brother. The edge of Bing’s vision starts to darken before he gets the strength to try and fight back, even then his robotic arm is sluggish, his breathing labored. Reaching up, he tries to push Jim away but it’s useless. Jims are remarkably strong at the best of times, to protect their brother they will do anything.

No one ever thought they’d see what would happen if they should lose one.

* * *

Bing wakes from the nightmare with a start, getting a glimpse of people stood around his bed and darkness all around him before he feels it seep into his mind and drag him down into a dreamless sleep. His body, strained from a week of nothing but emotional and physical distress, relaxes deeply. There’s something strangely familiar about this darkness, something…almost reassuring. The familiar comfort helps to throw things into a bit of a contrast. Memories becoming jumbled in his mind. Things that happened, things that may have happened, things that might not have. The darkness just allows a few things to slowly drift into the right place, though a lot of it remains mixed up.

When it leaves, Bing’s mind is in turmoil. A mess of memories, he’s not sure what’s real and what isn’t, waking up to see his bed surrounded by Dr Iplier, Google, the Host, Dark, and Wilford. Dark looks weak and every one is looking to him with concern.

“Wh-what happened?” Bing’s panic leaps as he remembers Jim’s screams. “D-Did I kill s-someone else?”


	34. Wilford

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is nothing but a series of battles against one's own mind.

After all the hullabaloo that Wilford made over getting an explanation for the green-haired pixie that Dark was keeping secret, Wilford doesn’t hear a single word that comes out of the grey ego’s mouth. His eyes catch sight of the cane Dark’s using and his mind is thrown back to a time he doesn’t think about. A time with friends and fun, just a little madness, with Celine and life and…. Such a long time ago.

Dark’s words just wash over him as he thinks of his friend, of Damien, heartfelt and true, of how the last time they spoke, Damien was angry with him. Like Damien  _knew_  what he’d done.

Underneath the table, Wilford’s fingers shake with the strain of him trying to fight off the memories, the guilt, the pain of all that happened. Of the blood that stains his hands. His lips draw back into a hollow toothy grin, his eyes distant as he stares at the table.

Except it’s all a joke. He’s never  _hurt_ anyone, he’s never killed a soul. Death means nothing! Don’t they get that?! Didn’t any of them understand?!

“Will?”

Jolting, Wilford leaps to his feet, reaching for his gun and letting off three shots before his thoughts even get into motion, never processing who’s stood in front of him.

Everything snaps, the memories gone, the meeting room empty save for him and Dark who’s clasping at this side but staring resolutely at Wilford with a slight glare.

Blushing slightly, Wilford chuckles as his gun disappears back into his void. “Sorry. Must have drifted off. Has everyone gone?”

Dark speaks through gritted teeth as he sits down again, still clutching his side. “Someone else will fill in the blanks for you Wilford. Now please leave.”

The pink man wiggles his moustache with a smile as he turns to leave. Such a shame he missed the juicy gossip. Oh well, no doubt Bim will fill him in on the pixie man.


	35. Dark and Marvin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even in the darkest shadows, there is a flicker of light.

“So…” Marvin’s hand is glowing light blue as it hovers over the bullet hole in Dark’s side, his magic carefully guiding the flesh to heal. “Are the gun attacks a  _frequent_  thing or…?”

“There’s always a risk with Wilford.”

“Is he…?”

“He’ll be okay.” Dark grunts, his shell cracking in protest at the use of an unfamiliar magic. Marvin kind of wants to ask more but says nothing, ceasing his magic, and gently probing at the tender freshly healed skin, half an eye on how Dark winces.

“I think that’s the best I can do for you.” Marvin smirks, reaching to run a hand through Dark’s hair, his fingers curling in the short hairs on the back of the grey man’s head. “I don’t know what it is that holds you together, but it doesn’t seem to like me messing.with it.”

“Sounds about right.” Dark shifts to lean heavier towards the side that didn’t get shot, though not so far that Marvin’s hand is forced to leave his hair. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“Well since I’m officially moved in, I figured I ought to earn my keep.”

Dark frowns. “That’s  _not_  how this works.”

“I  _know_.” Poking Dark’s side, careful to avoid any tender spots, Marvin smiles. It’s funny to him how serious Dark can be sometimes, especially given how not stern he knows the grey man can be. “But I like to be helpful.”

“Ugh. Not another one.” Dark rolls his eyes, seemingly serious, but Marvin sees the slight crinkle in the corner of his eyes and lips that show he’s joking.

“Hey, helping people is good for you. You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t know. I tried to help Wilford and he shot me. That’s not so healthy.”

**M ҉̰͍a̶͉̖̮̲r ̙̤̩̰̼̩͜v̼͖i̛̲̰̫̩͙̰̘n͇̰͉**

Marvin turns, looking over his shoulder. Was that…?

**M̗͙̟̤̻̕ͅA͈̱R͚V̯̘͞I͎ͅN͓̤͚**

It sounds like…. But he can’t be… Not here… Not already…

“Marvin!” Dark says firmly.

The magician turns back, smiling awkwardly as he realises he zoned out, and tries to dismiss the concern that he sees on Dark’s face.

“It’s nothing.” he insists, but Dark looks unconvinced, reaching to wrap his fingers around Marvin’s, and squeezing them in a small attempt at reassurance.

“He  _can’t_  hurt you here.” It’s said with such conviction that for a moment Marvin actually believes him. Then he remembers the way things have gone before. That things are never so cut and dry. Whenever it looks like it’s safe, someone always winds up hurt.

Marvin squeezes Dark’s fingers back. “I know.”


	36. Waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course King is there.

Red stops his reconstruction of Bing’s leg, reaching up to rub at his eyes. King, curled up in the seat next to the head of Bing’s bed, shuffles in the seat.

“Are you okay?”

“I need to charge.” Red’s voice is quiet, volume turned low to preserve his battery. The low charge symbol has been flashing in his vision for the last hour now and it’s pushing dangerous levels. If he continues to work, he’ll mess something up. Red glances over to the door in confusion. “Google was supposed to be here by now.”

King looks to the door as well. Nobody but Dr Iplier has come through it in the last couple of hours. Otherwise it’s just been the two of them in here, quietly watching and working to get Bing up to 100%. “You should go rest.”

“I’m not supposed to leave Bing alone.”

“He’s not alone.” King’s firm as he speaks, drawing Red’s attention to him. “I’m not going anywhere. Google’s probably just held up at the meeting. You go charge, I’ll wait for him.”

Red takes in King with a critical eye, seeing the dryad’s own weariness, seeing how, for lack of a better term, wilted he looks. He hasn’t left the room since Bing woke up yesterday.

“You should probably go outside. You don’t look too healthy.”

King shakes his head, giving a slight yawn as he curls up a little more in the chair, though Red isn’t wrong. Normally he’d have gone outdoors a few times by this point, but he’s scared to even leave the room, let alone go outside.

“F’I turn my back, he’ll disappear again.”

Red watches King for a few seconds more before getting back to work, though he has to stop not ten minutes later, the warnings about his battery becoming more insistent and harder to ignore. Reluctantly he leaves to charge, making King promise to get some air once Google turns up.

“You shouldn’t lie, you know.” comes Bing’s voice, quiet, just above a mumble. Bing himself has been rousing and dozing by rounds for the last few hours, exhausted from everything he’s learned about the last few weeks, and the strain of his current incomplete state.

“I didn’t think you were awake.” King mutters back. He doesn’t have the energy to get excited like he did the first few times Bing woke up. “How you feeling?”

“…Broken.”

“Do you have like that phantom sensation thing where you can feel your arm even though it’s not there.”

“Little bit.”

An uneasy silence falls between them for a moment or two before King speaks again. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

The fingers on Bing’s left hand twitch and without thinking, King sits forward, reaching for them, taking Bing’s hand in his own and holding firm.

“You should still go outside.” Bing says as he gently squeezes his friend’s fingers, giving him a withering glare.

King squeezes back. “Once they finish your leg, so I can take you with me.”

Bing snorts a laugh, nodding towards the half-finished limb. “I’m not exactly going anywhere, bro.”

That’s more like the Bing he remembers. King can’t help but smile as he gives a slight tug (very slight, he doesn’t want to hurt Bing) on his friend’s hand. “I’m serious, I’m not turning my back on you for a second. You might disappear out the window.”

It’s obvious by his tone that King isn’t being at all serious and Bing can’t help but to laugh which makes King’s heart soar. Bing’s just been so miserable since he woke up, not that his misery is unwarranted, but to hear his friend actually laugh almost makes it seem like everything’s going to be okay.


	37. Start on the Road to Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovery is a long process, let's not drag it out longer than we have to.

“I don’t know.” Bing is sat up in his bed, his leg almost completely restored, his arm still missing and King passed out in the bed behind where the Host is currently sat. “No offence, but I don’t like the idea of you being in my head.”

“Apprehension is understandable. You’ve been through a lot. However the Host believes it may be easier to show him what you saw in your nightmare, than to try and put it into words.”

Bing’s nerves are almost palpable on the air and the Host waits for a few moments before carefully offering the cyborg his hand again. The Googles can, and are, handling the physical recovery but the difference in Bing’s mind is something that could easily take months to recover from. The Host is merely offering a slight cheat, so that it can be less of an uphill struggle for him.

It’s a few minutes before the Host feels Bing’s hand slip into his own, the cyborg quietly muttering “Just…try not to knock anything over in there. Please?”

Host gives what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “The Host will do his best.”

_…Of course King doesn’t care about him. He has to take care of his trees now. He has real responsibility. ..  
_

_…As though Google could ever see him as anything but a defect. There’s a harsh tug on his wrist. “Stop shifting, or I’ll leave you like this another week.” Google’s words are harsh and biting…_

_…It’s one thing to say you’re sorry Bing. But have you ever considered just not being a jackass?…  
_

_…he’s done his best to hold in the pain, as he felt something just rip through his chest like a serrated knife, he feels a tear roll down his cheek. Stuttering out an apology, he reaches up desperate to hide it…  
_

_…There’s blood. There’s panic. It-It can’t-! This can’t be real! Jim is howling as he scrabbles to pull his brother closer, lashing out at any of them who come near…_

Every thought and emotion slams into him, every moment feels as real as any actual memory ever has and the Host is taken aback by the sheer intensity of what he sees. It actually takes him a moment to realise that that strange raspy sound he can hear is Bing, gasping for breath. The cyborg’s grip on the Host’s hand is impossibly tight and each breath sounds more and more labored. Bing’s panicking.

“Breathe.” Host orders as he shifts, taking Bing’s hand in his left, while he moves his right one to the cyborg’s shoulder, doing what little he can to ground him. “Breathe.” Bing must have seen it all as well, and the Host silently curses himself. He should have realised such an experience would cause Bing to panic. “You’re safe. You’re home. Breathe.”

It’s not easy to talk Bing down from the panic attack, unable to see what words are calming him and which aren’t, but gradually the Host feels Bing’s breathing slowly begin to even out, his own concern calming along with it.

“The Host apologises, he should have warned you.”

“It’s-it’s….” Bing tries to say ‘it’s okay’, but he doesn’t quite finish the phrase. His chest hurts, still occasionally spasming, and he figures that maybe it isn’t that okay.

Taking a breath, the Host begins to speak, comfortable in using his narrative powers to try and help to calm Bing down now that the initial panic is over.

 _‘Bing’s breathing slowly returns to normal as he realises that remembering what happened does not give these memories their power.’_ Bing follows the guiding without struggle, sinking slightly in the bed and giving a relaxed sigh as he continues to listen.  _‘They may feel real but they are not the truth. King of the Squirrels did not leave, the Jims are still alive, and Google….’_

The Host stops as he realises something he saw in Bing’s memory. Or more accurately, something he didn’t see.

“Google hasn’t visited.” There are plenty of instances of Red and Green coming in to work on Bing’s leg, and Oliver has come in more than once just to say hello, but Google hasn’t come through that door even once.

The cyborg’s arm is carefully pulled from the Host’s grip and half wrapped across Bing’s chest as he turns away. “It’s okay.” his voice is quiet. Even if the Host hadn’t just had access to Bing’s mind, he knows that’s not true.

“No.” Host pushes himself to his feet, a little unsteady, his mind still working it’s way through everything he witnessed in Bing’s brain. “The Host will speak with him.”

“Please don’t.”

“Bing.” The Host places his hand on the cyborg’s shoulder. “This is not that world. You do not have to  _earn_  your brother’s attention. The Host is certain that Google is simply having some emotional issues. You might remember that he’s not as in tune with them as we often think he is.”

“I guess.” Bing concedes and the Host continues to make his way out. I mean, it wouldn’t be a  _terrible_  thing if Host could convince Google to come visit.

The Host stops as he reaches the door, turning back to glance into the room. “Oh and Bing.” Bing glances up, seeing the smirk on the Host’s lips. “The Host thought you might like to know that Google broke Dark’s nose when he found out you were missing.” Bing’s mouth drops open as the Host makes his exit.


	38. Emotions Aren't Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why hasn't Google visited Bing?

Google is sat at his workstation, as the Host enters the Googles’ computer lab. He doesn’t turn round or respond to the Host’s presence, certain that the Host will state his purpose here soon enough.

“The Host is afraid there’s a problem with Bing.”

Google’s fingers freeze above his keyboard, the droid turning slightly but refusing to meet the Host’s gaze. “What problem?”

“The internal life support. The Host worries that it may not be sufficient given the high level of stress that it was created under.”

Google returns to his work. “It’ll be fine.”

“The Host was just there, and Bing had a panic attack.”

Google stops typing, his fingers curling up with barely contained concern before he pushes back from his station, bringing up a communication screen so that he can message the others. “I will get someone on to it.”

“The Host thinks maybe  _you_  should see to it.”

“The others are more than capable.” Google doesn’t see the frustration in the Host’s face as he continues to message someone to check Bing’s life support.

“The Host is sorry for this.” With an exasperated sigh, the Host places a hand on the back of Google’s chair and leans in as he speaks as clearly as he is able. “Okay Google.”

Google’s system freezes instantly, the screen disappearing, and his chassis straightening as he sits up perfectly straight, his gaze going hollow as he stares helplessly at nothing.

“Of you and your brothers, who is the most qualified to reinstall Bing’s internal life support?”

“I am.” Google answers the question truthfully, as he’s programmed to do. He’s the one with the greater knowledge of the parts they’re using to restore Bing, the one with the most experience in improving robotics, the one with the greater drive to succeed the first time around, the one with the greatest motivation to bring Bing back up to operational standards.

Google’s shoulders relax, the question answered and he scowls, turning in anger, but before he can say anything, the Host speaks again.

“Okay, Google.” Google freezes again, awaiting instruction. “Why haven’t you visited Bing?”

“Because I’m malfunctioning.” Another true answer. His pre-programmed response to the ‘magic words’ which Dark had  _sworn_ no one but the two of them knew. Either Dark lied or the Host somehow got inside his head and took it out.

“Malfunctioning?”

Google glares at the Host, waiting to see if he uses those words again but the Host just waits patiently. “I feel hollow.” he says eventually. Reaching up, he taps at his chest with two fingers, just where a human’s breast bone would be. “Right here, whenever I see him.”

“Hollow…” The Host considers Google’s words as he shifts in place. The droid doesn’t have much frame of reference for emotions and is known to misinterprets them. Feeling hollow…. “…Is it possible that you feel that what happened to Bing is your fault?”

Google pushes his glasses up his nose, purposefully avoiding looking at the Host. “It  _is_ my fault.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When he was being attacked Bing kept looking to the cameras. He  _knows_  I hack them but it took me  _two days_  to even notice he was missing. I should have  _seen_. I should have known he needed help. I could have…” Google’s voice slowly builds speed as he speaks until he realises that maybe the Host has hit on the problem. “…done something.”

The hollowness in his chest is back with a vengeance as he thinks of the moment when he saw the time stamp on the footage and Google absent-mindedly raises his hand to his chest, clutching at his shirt, and closing his eyes trying to fight it off. It is a grossly unpleasant feeling and he wants it gone.

The Host places a firm hand on Google’s shoulder, the droid turning to look at him. “There’s no way you could have possibly stopped them, even if you  _had_  seen.”

Google nods. He knows he wouldn’t have got there in time. “…But I could have tried.”

The Host sighs as he thinks on what Google’s saying, crossing his arms before he speaks again. “Okay Google.” the droid freezes once more. “Bing has never needed you more than he does right now. Go and see him.”

Without hesitation, Google gets to his feet, unable to disobey the instruction. Secretly, he’s grateful that the final decision has been removed from his hands, wanting to visit Bing all this time but always finding a reason to stay away. Now those reasons mean nothing.

Still as he passes the Host he pauses a moment.  Google’s face is stern as he taps one finger firmly against the Host’s chest. “Don’t  _ever_  use those words against me again.”

The Host stands defiant, unapologetic for what he has done, though he inclines his head slightly. “The Host promises.”

With that, Google leaves.


	39. The Taste of Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marvin learns an impromptu lesson about magic

“You can feel it, huh?” Bim asks.

“Yeah…” Marvin gazes at the door in wonder.

It’s just a door, a normal, boring door, just as normal-looking as every other door they’ve passed on the tour of the building, but this one just  _feels_ different, like a giant invisible cloud is pulsing out from it and Marvin couldn’t help but stop to look at it in awe.

“Does anyone else…?”

“Feel it? Not really. At least, no one who comes round this way regularly. Mostly, just me.”

There’s a tingling on Marvin’s tongue and he licks his lips, surprised at the sudden flavour.

“What do you taste?” Bim asks.

“Those sour fizzy sweets. That’s really weird. Is that the magic?”

Bim glances sideways at the green-haired magic man, tilting his head in curiosity. “You haven’t been around many other magic users, have you?”

Marvin gives a sheepish grin. “Not really.” It’s always just been him.

“Well everyone’s magic is different, almost like fingerprints. Everyone’s power has a different feel to it. Some you can even taste. Often you can identify someone by the feel of their magic alone.”

“So whose magic is this?” Marvin reaches his hand forward, brushing along the edges of the sugary magic cloud with a small smile. It feels so strange but also strangely reassuring. Tinted with happiness, and nostalgia, and a strange urge to start dancing.

“Wilford’s. Though he doesn’t like the ‘m’ word for what he does, so try not to use it around him.” Bim also reaches forward, allowing the familiar sensations that come with his friend’s magic to wash over him, making him feel comforted and secure. “Wilford’s is almost pure sugar. It’s why the smell follows him everywhere. Mine has more of a hollow gothic music feel to it.” At least that’s the best way he’s found to describe how it feels. He’s so used to its presence he doesn’t always feel it right there.

Marvin draws his hand back and turns to Bim, curiosity painting his face. “So can you feel  _my_  magic?”

“Certainly.” Bim closes his eyes, and Marvin feels something unfamiliar brush along the edges of his magic. It takes a lot of effort not to flinch or jerk away at the strange sensations. “It shows your inexperience, but it’s bright and refreshing, like ocean spray, and…” Bim stops and Marvin’s heart jumps as Bim frowns. “That’s odd.”

“What?”

The probing stops and Bim opens his eyes, giving Marvin a wide grin. “It’s probably nothing.” The TV show host gestures to the door. “Want to see what happens inside Wilford’s studio?”

Marvin doesn’t like the sudden change, but as the smell of burned caramel intensifies, his curiosity overpowers him. Bim’s right. It’s probably nothing. And something is telling him that beyond this door is something that needs to be seen to be believed. So he forgets the strange response and moves toward the door.


	40. Reuniting Robots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> About time too.

King sits up, still blinking sleep from his eyes as he looks over to Bing’s bed. He’s been roused by a strange sound which he’s realising is Bing trying, and failing, to not cry and King is ready to start shouting at whoever’s bothering him. The sight that greets him though causes him to pause.

Bing’s sat on the edge of the bed, Google stood in front of him. leaned over with the cyborg’s human arm curled tightly around his neck, pulling him close. And sure enough Bing is sniffling, but smiling.

“What did you do?” King asks with a scowl.

Google’s arm is wrapped around Bing’s chest, holding him in place because honestly he’s not sure exactly what else he can do. “I swear, I just asked if he was okay. He started blubbing and now he won’t let me go.”

Bing gives a teary laugh and pulls Google in a little tighter before letting go of his hold on his brother. “Sorry.” he tries to wipe the tears from his face, giving an occasional sniffle. “I just missed you Goog.”

Resolving himself to the fact he probably won’t fall asleep again for a while, King sits up on the edge of his own bed. “So I don’t get any blubbing?” he teases.

Bing gives a smirk and reaches for King making a grabby hand at him. With a smirk, King hops beds to sit next to Bing, carefully wrapping his arms around his friend’s neck, while Bing’s arm carefully curls around King. Though they’re nervous to hold too tightly given that Bing still isn’t a hundred percent, the two of them press their foreheads together, eyes closed and sit for a good few minutes.

After a moment or two, Google asks how Bing is feeling, is he in pain, any discomfort where they’ve managed to attach his leg, any trouble breathing, and Bing does his best to answer, but he doesn’t loosen his hold on King, not willing to sacrifice what feels like his first human contact in months, but is in reality just a few weeks.

“Why is it taking so long?” King asks when Google seems done with his questions. Bing nudges the dryad with his foot in an attempt to encourage him to shut up, but King ignores it. “It shouldn’t take this long to reattach his arm and leg should it?”

Google sits on Bing’s other side, his hand still held against Bing’s back to stop the cyborg just falling back against the bed. “Not a straight out replacement, but we’re making a few changes as we go.”

Bing draws back, still clinging to King but looking over to Google. “Changes?”

Google smiles as he nods. “With advances in technology, most of your parts were made obsolete within six months and you’d had them for a couple years before you moved in. That’s part of why they malfunction a lot. Replacing them wasn’t worth the risk of causing you damage once we took over your repairs, but since we’re essentially rebuilding from the ground up, we figured you could do with your own upgrade.”

“So no more tripping over my own feet?” Bing asks excitedly.

“Well not because of your robotic parts. We can’t do anything to fix your inherent clumsiness.” Google teases, his eyes flashing cheekily.

Bing gives a big grin that fades a little as he remembers. He wants to hug both King and Google but only has the one arm and he’s not willing to sacrifice his hold on King. The blue droid seems to understand though, reaching across with his spare hand and ruffling Bing’s hair. Not quite a hug, but it’s more than Bing feels he’s had in a long time, and happy tears pour down his cheek again.

“God damn it Google! You made him cry again!” King pulls Bing close, wrapping his arms tightly around his friend.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m doing wrong!” Google sounds distressed and his confusion makes Bing laugh.

Gosh, he’s missed this.


	41. The Jims

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing is reunited with the Jims, it goes about as well as it might.

It’s not often that the Jims are given a job that only they can do.

Usually their ‘job’ is to keep out of everyone else’s way, and though they don’t always manage it, they are more than willing to give it a go. So you can imagine their confusion when Google comes to them and tells them there’s something he needs them, specifically _them_ , to do. Apparently it’s the Host’s idea, though Google doesn’t go into it in much detail, simply bringing them to the clinic and pushing open the door to Bing’s room.

Jim reaches for his brother, nervous. They’ve still not been allowed in and though they’ve been told Bing’s improving, their journalistic nature means they trust nothing they haven’t seen for themselves. As they walk in, they see the cyborg sat at the end of the bed, and watch as he pales at the sight of them, his face falling and looking like he’s seen a ghost. That’s not the reaction of an okay person and they both stop in place.

Other Jim gives a small wave, noticing that Bing’s apparently missing an arm and he wants to ask, but Google shoots them a look that says, ‘do so and I’m throwing your camera into a ravine’.

The aim, it would seem, is to test the leg, helping Bing to walk to the garden where King is waiting after Google apparently kicked him out. Having only one arm, Bing can’t exactly use crutches, and the Jims are about the same height, they’re surprisingly agile, and are able to do things in sync without having to really think about it. That and they no doubt are getting annoyed at being kept out of the loop.

Bing won’t stop staring and the Jims stare back, unsure if they’ve done something wrong or if Bing just hates them, so they don’t hear Google the first time he asks them to go stand on either side of the cyborg. When they  _do_  hear, they move and notice that Bing won’t look at them. The two of them share a look over Bing’s head.

There’s a couple of rules to this job. If Bing starts to fall, they have to catch him, they can’t run or be too energetic, let Bing set the pace, and if he stops, they stop. Fairly simple.

The pair of them help Bing to his feet which he’s a bit unsteady on, almost falling back down, but they have him and he’s soon steady on his feet.

“How does it feel?” Google asks.

The cyborg glances between the Jims, his cheeks slightly flushed as he looks uncomfortable. “Weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird?” Jim asks, from Bing’s left.

The cyborg doesn’t offer an answer and the Jims are almost certain they’ve done something to upset him at this point, so they remain silent as they continue to make their way out. Google is following a short way behind, watching them with a curious frown.


	42. The Jims Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I could, I would adopt the Jims

There’s no sign of King when they finally make it to the garden and Bing’s arm, around Jim’s neck tightens a little bit.

“Where is he?”

The Jim on Bing’s right hand side points up, to where he spots the dryad sat on a branch, seemingly soaking up some sunshine. It’s been a pretty long time since he went outside and he’s apparently making the most of it.

Bing stumbles forward, calling up to the tree for King to get his butt down here, leaving the Jims behind as he manages steps on his own. Google, still right behind them frowns and moves forward as they share a sombre glance.

“Why didn’t you follow him?” he demands

“If he falls he’ll hit the grass.” says Jim.

“He has King and you to catch him now.” Other Jim adds.

“Besides I don’t think Bing wants us here.” The two of them step closer together as Google looks over to Bing.

Sure enough, as soon as King hits the ground, Bing has his arm thrown around his friend and seems happier, and more energetic than the entire time he was with the Jims. This is strange, but suggests that Bing is keeping secrets so Google points to the Jims as he starts to move towards Bing.

“If either of you go anywhere, I’m coming after you and dragging your sorry butts back here.”

The Jims reach to hold each other’s hand as they watch Google go up to Bing and King and the three of them talk in hushed voices.

“What do you think we did?” Jim asks.

“I don’t think we’d figure it out if we thought for a hundred years.” his brother responds.

Google draws King away from Bing, turning the cyborg to face the Jims and giving him a gentle push, though probably not as gentle as he thinks since Bing has to try really hard not to just fall flat on his face.

Everybody watches with bated breath as Bing very carefully makes his way towards the Jims, one foot in front of the other. It’s not easy but he manages it. The Jims are waiting and as Bing is stood immediately in front of them, he looks so so sad, and their grip on each other tightens. What on earth did they do?

“I am so sorry.” Bing says.

Jim and Jim exchange a glance before looking back at Bing. “Why?” they say in unison.

Bing can’t help it and he bursts into tears, his hand raising to cover his face and both the Jims rush forward, wrapping their arms around Bing and holding him close. They’re offering apology after apology for whatever it is they’ve done. They swear that if Bing tells them what they did wrong they’ll never do it again. That if Bing wants they’ll delete all the footage they got of people while Bing was recovering. Or if he wants, they’ll let him look after Honey their hamster for a week so he isn’t so sad. Or if he really wants they’ll leave right now. Well not right now because they’re hugging him, but as soon as the hug is over then they’ll leave.

See they’re so used to aggravating people, that it doesn’t occur to them there might be some other factor playing into this situation and honestly a hundred percent believe it’s their own fault. They don’t really want to leave but they haven’t seen Bing in so long, and they can see quite clearly that he’s still recovering. They don’t want to be the reason Bing isn’t getting better.

Bing curses the fact that he only has one arm again, wishing he could hold them both close as they hold him. He assures them they’ve done nothing wrong and that when he’s feeling better he’ll explain but he can’t right now. He’s just being an idiot himself and he’s so so so so sorry. He didn’t mean to make them feel like he doesn’t want them there.

The hug goes on for a long while until Bing asks them to help him move so he can sit and lean against the nearest tree, which the Jims do without question. The five of them spend an hour or two talking, Bing doing his best to explain how it is walking with his new leg, while they all catch up. It’s been a while since they were all together.

When it comes time to get back to the clinic, it’s without question that Bing reaches for the Jims to help.


	43. The Road to Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being angry doesn't mean you have to be a dick.

Bing strides across the room, reaching with his recently restored right arm to turn the speakers off, cutting out the music that has been playing for who knows how long. The cyborg frowns, turning to face the spirit huddled in the middle of the floor, watching as it slowly dawns on Natemare that the song has finally stopped.

When the spirit looks up, it’s to see Bing, complete with new arm, new leg, and new eye, glaring at him. The cyborg is keeping his distance, hands clutched into fists at his sides as Mare shifts in place.

“I……I don’t-”

Bing steps forward, the motion somehow smoother than Mare remembers the half-droid moving before, though he’s sure to not get too close. “He did this to you didn’t he?” Bing demands.

There’s a faint ringing in Mare’s ears as he softly nods his head. Even with the music off, he can still hear it. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? He doesn’t even know any more.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”  An angered finger raises and jabs at Mare as Bing continues to glare at him. “You messed with my head. I’m all screwed up, and it’s all  _your_ fault.”

Mare nods again, wrapping to curl his arms around his knees. He knows what he did. He knows what lesser sentences to his nightmares do to people, but no one’s ever been in there a week. He has no idea what that must be like. And yet Bing’s stood right in front of him. “Why are you here?” he mumbles.

Bing’s scowl softens before falling away. “When the others told me you helped get me home I knew he’d probably do this to you.” He’s not smiling, but as Bing crosses his arms, half-hugging himself, his eyes drift away, unable to look directly at Mare. “I still hate you, but  _no one_  deserves to be trapped.”

It takes time for Mare to have the strength of spirit to pull himself to his feet, time that the two of them spend in silence. It occurs to them both that Bing is right there and he could help him up, but the cyborg makes no move to do so, though his fingers twitch once or twice like he wants to.

As Mare stands, he can still hear the faint echo of the music in his own head, but he’s done here. He doesn’t want to spend a single second more in this place, so he rises to his feet and brushes himself down, more out of habit than a need to clean himself. “Thanks. I guess.” He turns to leave.

“Wait!” Bing calls and Mare pauses, turning back. “If he finds you, he’ll just trap you again.”

“Then I guess I’ll steer clear of him.” He means it to sound more sarcastic than it does, but he’s still not completely with it, and it falls kind of flat. It won’t be the first time he’s had to avoid Mad. Probably won’t be the last. The maniac’ll get over it eventually and then they’ll be whatever the hell it was they were before this. Friends, Mare guesses.

“Or you can come back to the building with me.” Bing frowns as Mare laughs at the idea. “I mean it. Dark’s always going on about how we’re protected while we’re there. You’ll be safe.”

Mare shakes his head dismissively, his lips quirked up into a sad smile. “Dark doesn’t want me there.”

“I don’t really want you there either.” Bing’s arms are crossed again, and the frown is back with friends. “But I don’t want you trapped by that stupid song any more either. I’ve had enough of my brain telling me I’m a bad person without throwing that thought into the mix.”

Mare raises an eyebrow at that. “Is that what happened in-”

“Shut up.” Bing’s face is stern. Of all the people in the world he doesn’t want to talk to about  _that_ , Mare is top of the list he never  _ever_ wants to talk to about it.  _Ever_. “Do you want to come back to the building or not?”

Silence drags out between them. It’s almost as though they’re holding out, waiting for the other to crack first; both of them headstrong idiots who’ve made mistakes before and will probably go on to make a lot more.

It’s Mare who finally breaks the silence.

“Okay.”


	44. Shades of Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver Shepherd is summoned to Dark's office following recent revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm putting together a tumblr masterpost of every update and I found out I managed to skip this one when posting over here!  
> It's kind of essential to demonstrate the strained relationship between Dark and his alternate self (Check out All That Glitters Is Not Gold if you're not sure what I'm talking about). So here it is, slotted in where it was meant to be.

Silver pushes open the door to Dark’s office, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walks in. The oppressive atmosphere in here always feels like a morgue to him and he never comes in more than he has to. The only reason he’s here now is because he was summoned.

“You wanted to see me?” he keeps his distance, a good few feet between him and the desk that Dark’s sat at.

The grey ego glances up from the papers he’s looking over. “You know why I called you here.”

“What? Your new stray?” Silver’s lips quirk in something akin to a smirk. “Don’t worry I’m not planning to mess with him.”

Dark frowns and places his hands flat on the desk as he pushes himself up. “ _You’re_  not going to go near him. You’re not going to talk with him, you’re not going to spend time with him. You are going to leave him  _completely alone_.” the air is pierced by the high pitched ringing as Dark’s anger slowly comes to a head and though the hero winces, Silver just continues to glare at him. “Am I understood?”

Silver narrows his eyes in mild confusion. “Are you honestly worried about me getting between you? Are you  _really_  that insecure?”

“ _Am I understood_?”

Silver takes a deep breath, staring at Dark. There’s more he wants to say, about how this insecurity is stupid , how he doesn’t give a monkey’s ass about the green-haired moron Dark’s apparently been keeping in his bed, about a fair few things but you know what? He doesn’t want to go anywhere near this Marvin, and if Dark wants to pretend that it’s because Silver’s afraid of him, let the baby have his bottle.

Raising two fingers, he gives a mocking two-finger salute. “Aye aye Captain Asshole. Keeping away from the magic man. Now is that everything or can I get lost yet?”

Dark glares for a couple moments more before he dismisses the hero and Silver resists the urge to stick his tongue out and just turns to leave.

When Silver gets to the doorway, Dark calls out. “Give my love to Roxy.”

Silver throws a glare at Dark over his shoulder. “Oh fuck off.”


	45. Past-a-knocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you need another eye to give you a different perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tobi -> Tobias -> Silver Shepherd  
> For more on this character check out my origin fic for him "All that Glitters Is Not Gold"

When Tobi pushes open the door to Bim’s room, the TV show host turns, a blue tie in one hand and a red tie in the other. Holding them up he shakes them with a look of intense frustration on his face.

“How do I pick? Whichever I wear I’ll look like Dark!” Bim turns back to the mirror and holds the red one to his neck. This one makes him look confident which is good, but what if it’s too agressive. He changes it for the blue one. This one is more chill and relax but what if he comes across as too laid back. Both of them still make him look like Dark

Tobi stands there for a moment or two, taking in the scene in front of him. Trimmer never really cares how he’s dressed, so long as he looks the part. If the guy is worried about looking like Dark it means he’s panicking and overthinking his outfit which only ever happens in one situation.

“…You have a date?”

Bim smiles nervously at his friend’s reflection in the mirror. “Is it that obvious?”

Matthias. Bim had been crushing  _hard_ on him all throughout college. He’d even rigged his final year game show project so that Matthias would win. Still there had never been any sign that Mattias thought about Bim anywhere near the same way so he’d taken it as a life lesson and moved on. That is, he thought that was what he did, until he got a call from Matthias this afternoon. Something about being in town and catching up over dinner and just…Bim has wanted this for so long, he refuses to question it. Who knows if he’ll ever get a chance like this again?

The ties are taken from Bim’s hands, and though he tries to protest, Tobi just tosses them aside. Going to the closet, the hero searches through Bim’s not-inconsiderable tie collection, running his fingers along the length of one or two, before drawing out the one he wants.

“Try this one.” he hands Bim a purple tie with yellow sparkles sprinkled across it and Bim smiles. He does love this one.

There’s a tug on his sleeve, Tobi pulling to remove the jacket Bim’s wearing. Once it’s off, he folds it, placing it aside as Bim wraps the tie around his neck and fastens it, drawing it tight to his neck. Tobi’s final move is to fold the cuffs of Bim’s shirt back towards the elbow until Trimmer’s forearms are showing.

With everything in place, Bim looks to his reflection as Tobi stands back. It’s surprising how much younger he looks without the jacket. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose he also kind of marvels at the choice of tie as well. He has honestly never felt less like their grumpy leader and he didn’t believe it could be possible.

“There’s our heartbreaker.” Tobi admires the look Bim’s rocking as Bim turns and admires himself in the mirror. The tie is much more Bim’s style than anything else, it’s kind of Tobi’s favorite, and that jacket has always weighed the man’s shoulders down. Better to be rid of it. “They won’t be able to resist.”

Bim doubts that. In fact he has huge doubts about tonight in general but no amount of nerves can apparently overpower his excitement. It’s only when he notices Tobi heading for the door that he calls out.

“Wait. What did you want? I mean, you didn’t come in here to give me style advice.”

Tobi pauses, wondering if he can actually be honest in this moment, ultimately giving a slight laugh. “Just wanted to let you know about the party some of us are planning to throw for the Jims’ birthday. Well partly for the Jims, partly a ‘yay we’re all still alive’ thing.”

It’s not technically a lie. He  _had_  wanted to tell Bim about the party and then…well it doesn’t really matter any more, does it. As he hits the door, Tobi turns and points at Bim. “If tonight goes well, you should invite your date.”

Bim laughs. “It’s just one date, Tobi.”

“Just think about it.” Tobi keeps smiling as he leaves. When the door closes behind him, the smile is gone, the laugh stops and he takes a breath. Bim has a date….

Once Tobi’s gone, Bim straightens his shirt and glances over at his reflection again.

It’s not a bad idea you know. Maybe he _should_ invite Matthias.


	46. Party Prep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Jims birthday and...

The party is kind of a big deal for everybody.

The party room is fairly new, cropping up in the way that new rooms tend to do, not that far from the main TV room. Down one side of the room there’s a bunch of tables for them to set up the food, while towards one end, there’s a couple more smaller tables for them to sit at. The middle of the room is bare, clearly intended to operate as a dance floor, and there’s a small room off the far end where anyone who needs to get away from the music or the crowd or whatever can just sit quietly for however long they need without all the noise and the mania.

Bing, King, and Silver have spent most of the day putting up the dorkiest streamers and banners they could find because it’s for the Jims! They did have helium balloons and a tank but after a couple hours, there was no helium, the balloons were all deflated and the three of them were giggling with stupid high voices while singing random songs. Yeah they’ve basically inhaled it all and none of them really regret it.

Bim is in charge of the food, and somehow Wilford manages to convince him to let him help, fixing a large array of snacky party foods while also placing an ahead of time order for like 12 pizzas for everybody to share. Nobody at any point questions the sheer amount of food they’re preparing.

The Googles are in charge of the music and take a while to install a bitchin’ sound system and picking out suitable ‘party songs’ as well as some incidental music to play for the necessary down time. One of the speakers blows during installation, letting out a high whining noise that causes each of the Googles, and Bing, a fair bit of pain before it dies. Still accidents happen.

Dark can’t help with anything, insisting that if they’re taking a day to set up this party, someone needs to actually do some work around here, but Marvin offers to distract the Jims so they don’t accidentally stumble on the set up, agreeing to an interview with them, which Wilford gives them permission to film in the studio.

Their eyes get all  big and dreamy when he says this and they drag Marvin to the studio. Ultimately they never get to the actual interview, a bit busy geeking out over all of Wilford’s equipment and set up and just clearly having the time of their life in there. Marvin watches with a chuckle, wondering if he’ll ever be able to get them out of here again.


	47. Surprise!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jims deserve nice things

The Jims look at each other in curiosity. Being the hard working investigative journalists that they are, they know every single room in this building and both of them are pretty sure that doorway wasn’t there yesterday.

They’re aware of disappearing and reappearing doorways of legend that hide giant dragons, or fantastic treasures, or sarcastic shopkeeps cursed to traverse the universe and pay off some life debt they owe, so the two of them approach with caution.

As they turn and enter the doorway, the sound of a dozen party poppers being pulled fills the air, that light smoky smell accompanying it, as they see everyone is stood inside waiting for them.

“Surprise!” comes the collective yell.

The Jims jump a little in shock before being grabbed and pulled into a group hug involving pretty much everyone except Dark who watches with a slight smile, and Natemare who’s sat on one of the tables.

The two of them are laughing and still being squeezed when Red peels away from the group to start up the music, and the air fills with the smell of sugar as Wilford disappears with Bim, using his void to bring all the food to the room so it’s still piping hot.

It’s obviously a little rushed, a little last minute but when the hug finally breaks up and everybody makes a bee line for the food, the Jims couldn’t imagine it being any better.


	48. Party Time Problems

There’s a scrape of the chair as Wilford moves it to join Dark at the table. Wilford had felt a hankering for one of the sugary pastry things that Trimmer made. He may have to get him to make those for long days in the studio. After grabbing one, he’d intended to join the fun back on the dance floor, but when he sees his favorite killjoy sitting at a table on his own, Wilford figures he could probably do with a break.

Sitting up straight, Dark is the picture of composure, though Wilford notices the nervous tapping of his fingers against the table and the occasional sideglance to where Natemare is stood at the edge of the dancefloor.

Wilford shakes his head as he breaks apart the pastry in his fingers. “Let it go.”

The drumming stops and Dark’s fingers curl into a fist on the table. “He doesn’t  _belong_  here.”

“Neither does your pixie.”

“That’s  _not_  the same.”

Wilford nods. True, Marvin may not have tortured, kidnapped, and dismantled anyone in the building yet but Bing was the one who came to Wilford and asked the pink man to take him to where they’d found him. Bing is the one who offered Natemare the protection that Dark is always saying that the building allows them. Bing is the one who freely admits that he hasn’t forgiven the spirit but doesn’t believe he should suffer.

“If Bing is willing to give him a chance, then it’s really not our place to intervene.”

“He’s a  _child_.”

Wilford chuckles. “And yet if you were to push most of this building to choose between standing behind you or standing behind him, you would lose.”

Dark turns to look at Wilford, still stern, but Wilford can see a strange vulnerability in Dark’s eyes. Nobody but him ever seems to see it. “Does that include you?”

“I’m always on your side, Dark.” Tearing the pastry in half he raises it to his lips, pausing. “I can hardly call you on your bullshit from across the room.”

Wilford tosses the pastry in his mouth as Dark snorts, trying not to laugh but ultimately failing as the smile on his lips is undeniable. In fact, Dark’s whole demeanour seems to relax as he turns towards his old friend. “You seem clear minded today.”

The pink man gestures to their strange little family, dancing in the middle of the room in ways that they’ll probably regret if they ever find out what it looks like. “Good times. Good people. What’s not to stay clear-minded for?”

Suddenly, the music glitches, stuttering before being consumed by a loud low frequency - **bowm** -. Red moves to the disc player, not understanding what’s happening. When he touches it, a strong shock zaps him, leaving him shaking as he draws away. 

Dark and Wilford are instantly on their feet, old friends in tune, both able to sense that strange errant spark in reality that always seems to accompany impending disaster. Everyone on the dance floor looks around in confusion at the sudden loss of music. None of them notice Wilford taking out his gun.

Google rushes to the music player while Green and Oliver make sure Red’s okay. The blue droid is also shocked, but he ignores it, pushing past the pain to stop the speakers as the tone begins to rise in pitch.

Silver’s the first one to cover his ears, letting out a grunt as it continues to rise. Bing soon follows, then the Googles. Soon, everyone is clamping their hands over their ears in a desperate attempt to block the sound out. Silver can’t hold it in any more, and screams for it to stop.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Four quick shots take out the speakers and everyone is gasping at the sudden silence left behind. Dark steps forward, one hand still to his head as he looks over everyone in panic. “Is everyone alright?”

Everyone looks to each other, giving a general grumble in reply. Somehow, a small terrified voice manages to be heard above them all.

“….Jim…?”


	49. Jim....?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fates are worse than death.

Jim is the last to lower his hands, feeling sluggish and off, like he’s an inch to the right of where he actually is. It takes him a moment to realise that his brother is looking at him with wide panicked eyes.

“What?”

His brother just points, and Jim feels something start to trickle down his face, though he doesn’t think he’s crying. Raising his fingers, he brushes across the strange feeling and when he pulls them away, they’re red.

…blood…?

Jim’s chest begins to shake as he looks at his fingers, his lips curling at the edges and a high pitched giggle bubbling forth as he looks up at the group that are gathered around him.

As other Jim goes to move forward, Silver grabs him from behind, having to wrap his arms around the Jim’s chest and drag him back, a look of sheer panic on his face. Silver turns and shouts something. Everybody moves away, all of them wide-eyed in fear.

**G͏͖̼̗͍͍̜̠͕͎͍o͇̦̯̮͇͜o̸͓̦̜̺̪̰̦̖̫̕ͅḑ͚̪͖͍͓͚̥͍̹̙̕**

The laughter is ringing around him, it’s all he can hear and Jim knows he should be afraid but there’s something….something is stopping him…it won’t…it won’t let him…

**S͓̥̺͓̮̠̤̺͞ṯ̴̺͖̯͉͙̭̺ͅo̼͘͘p̸̜͇̼͓̭̟̹͉ ͞҉͚̰̭̥̱̭f̡̺̻̠͖̼̹̙̯͜ͅi͕͓̖̖̫̖̦g̴̝̪̪̘͙͟ͅh̴͏̤͉ ̷̻̲̯͟t̢̺̝̩̝̟͙̩ị͜n̷̸̟̻g͙̗**

Nobody in the room notices as Jim passes out, because his body stays standing, a cruel grin on his lips, blood dripping from his right eye and his body shaking with the insane laughter.

His brother is pushing towards hysteria, twisting and fighting against the hold around him, shouting for his brother, convinced, absolutely certain that if he shouts loud enough, that if he can just break free and grab his brother he can make this stop!

Sliver is struggling but he refuses to let Jim go, shouting for everyone to step back as the laughter begins. It gets worse and Jim is getting more aggressive. Silver honestly doesn’t know how much longer he can keep a hold on him when the other Jim snarls and raises his hand to point.

No one knows who or what he’s pointing at, the finger directed at no one. His mouth opens and a snarl layered with a faint static comes out. Clenching his hand into a fist, Jim lets out a guttural scream, his form seeming to glitch in place as he turns this way and that, making the same noise as he looks at them all. Then suddenly, the air seems to split around him as Jim disappears.

The air is electric and Jim is screaming now, finally breaking free of Silver and running to the space where his brother was moments before, frantically reaching for the air where his brother had just been, as though he believes Jim’s just turned invisible, but there’s nothing there.

“Jim! JIM!” he shouts, his hands are grasping at the air, reaching this way and that. He can’t be gone. He can’t! “JIM!”

No one says anything, not sure what they’ve just witnessed, and Jim turns, pure anger, burning in his eyes as he runs at Silver, smacking into him. The two of them slam to the ground, Jim’s arms swinging and punching and beating at him, as he screams.

“WHY DID YOU STOP ME! I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM!”

Bing stumbles back, stopping when the Host grabs his arm, doing what he can to reassure him as Wilford and Google move to drag Jim off Silver. It takes both of them, Jim kicking and screaming and shouting as he’s pulled away.

“YOU’RE NO HERO!! YOU’RE A COWARD!!”

Jim’s face has gone red and there are tears streaming down his cheeks. Dark tells Wilford to take Dr Iplier and Jim to the clinic. Calm him down, by whatever means the doctor deems necessary.

Silver’s in shock, barely having been able to raise his hands to try and protect himself. There’s scratches on his cheek, and as he shifts he feels his body throb with what he can only assume will blossom into bruises over the coming hours. Bim pushes him to stay lying down which honestly he’s kind of okay with because everything’s swimming a little bit even on the ground. Once Jim’s calm, they’ll get him to the clinic and deal with his injuries.

Dark glances over the remaining egos, huddled in various positions, all seemingly reassuring each other over what’s just happened. Marvin’s a short way off, seemingly muttering to himself. Stepping over, Dark just wraps his arms around him, holding him close, feeling him shake.

Party’s over.


	50. (Guilt) Complex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course the hero's going to think he could have done more.

Bim leans against the wall, his arms folded and head bowed in frustration as Tobi presses the ice pack more firmly against his shoulder. There’s going to be several colorful bruises when he wakes up tomorrow and the scratch on the hero’s cheek is going to need salve for a couple days.

“Stop that.” Bim says firmly.

Tobi glances over to him. “Stop what?”

“I can hear you blaming yourself from over here.” It’s the one thing that infuriates Bim about his friend. Tobi’s sometimes acrobatic ability to blame the most inconsequential shit on himself. It probably stems from the same instinct that makes the idiot run towards danger instead of away from it. 

“I’m not.” Tobi’s voice is quiet and Bim frowns harder. That is such a lie and if the damn hero wasn’t already black and blue, he’d try and beat some sense into him.

“There is  _nothing_  any of us could do, Tobi.”

Tobi’s eyes drift towards the next bed where Jim is currently dozing. Apparently they had to sedate him to get him to calm down and the poor guy just konked out. It’s uncomfortable how silent he is. “Jim doesn’t think so.”

“He’s just terrified. This isnt your fault.”

It would be funny if it wasn’t frustrating to practically see the words going in one ear and out the other when Tobi refuses to meet his eyes. It’s the telltale sign with him. When the hero’s thoughts are working against him, he’ll think the world can see the truth in his eyes.

“I notice you didn’t bring your date.” Tobi says, a transparent attempt to change the subject. To prevent them spending the whole night talking in circles, Bim just sighs and looks away.

“I hardly think that’s important right now.”

“Please?” So simple a question, so slight and meek. And yet, despite his current anger at the moron, Bim can’t help the slight smile that plays on his lips as he thinks on his date the other night. He thinks for a few moments before he speaks.

“I figured this was more of a family thing.” Sure Marvin and Natemare had been there but other than that, it was just the family, bringing in outsiders just didn’t seem appropriate. He looks to the hero and raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t invite Roxy?”

Tobias mumbles something mostly incoherent about her being out of town or a scheduling conflict and Bim barely catches it before Tobi’s pushing himself to his feet despite the show host’s protest.

“My fault or not,” he explains, “I’d really rather not be in here when he wakes up.” The hero nods towards the slumbering reporter behind him.

They’d given Jim enough sedative to down a man twice his size and it should last at least another twenty minutes by right. But the sedative was devised by people, poor ignorant people, who have never encountered the concept of the Jim Twins, let alone who are prepared for the sheer force of nature that is a Jim who’s lost his twin. So maybe leaving sooner rather than later is a good thing.

Bim steps forward, wrapping an arm around Tobi’s chest as the hero throws his arm over his friend’s shoulders. The two of them slowly shuffle out, neither of them noticing that they hadn’t been alone in the room.

From the very shadows steps a stranger. Well-dressed, short dark hair, wielding a staff-cane with a globe on the handle. He watches after the two of them for a moment. He didn’t hear everything, but he heard enough to be concerned as his eyes travel to the figure still laid on the bed.

“Well this isn’t good.”


	51. Exactly What You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...but not what they want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are unfamiliar, Phantom is based on the character presented in natewantstobattle's new music video Phantom. For more detail on how I intend to write this character, please check the blog 'justaphxntom' over on tumblr.

“Jim?”

Tired eyes blink open sluggishly as a hand runs through Jim’s hair. He’s been awake for almost an hour, but they gave him enough sedative that he has no energy to do anything else but lay there and feel how alone he really is.

Phantom is crouched beside the bed, his cane placed to the side as he runs his fingers through Jim’s hair. He knew just by looking that Jim was awake, though it takes the slow movement of Jim’s hand towards him for him to realise he’s sedated.

Phantom takes the hand, clasping tight to Jim’s fingers. “What happened?”

Jim explains as best he can, starting back with exploring the studio, how excited they were, then there was a party, just for them, and they were dancing and having fun and it was so fantastic but then…. After he’s finished, Jim shuffles a little, trying to move forward.

“Can I make a deal?” he asks. All he wants is Jim back and he wants to scream when Phantom shakes his head.

“That’s not how my deals work.”  Phantom has tried to explain his work in the past but the Jims have always had a sheen of naivety that has prevented them from truly understanding what it is he does.

Even if the deals could give anything lasting, anything of real worth, there’s not a mark on either Jim’s soul that shows they would ever take the deal. They’re odd, a little inconsiderate, but they’re so focused on doing the thing, they’ve never considered taking the shortcut. Everything they’ve ever had they’ve worked for.

And even then, Phantom would never offer it to them. In a world full of corruption and spiritual imbalance, the purity of the Jims is unique. To find someone so wholly incorruptible is a god-damn miracle. To find out there’s two is something to be protected.

“It hurts, Phan.” Jim whines, his eyes blinking closed again as a few tears slip out.

“I know.” Phantom reaches to brush the tears away and holds Jim’s hand tighter. He remains there until Jim drifts to sleep again.

* * *

It takes a while but eventually, Phantom finds him, stepping from the shadows to see Jim, the corrupted one, because that’s what he’s looking at now. Almost gone is Jim’s purity, replaced by a terrified, confused, angry soul.

Were Phantom not concealing himself right now, there is no doubt in his mind this poor creature would attempt to attack him. All he can see in the soul is pain, fear, and anger. It almost hurts to look at, so he turns away.

This is beyond his ability, though his power is considerable he is still bound by the kind of rules that one does not just break.  Tapping his fingers against his cane he thinks. Phantom may not be able to do anything directly but maybe he can nudge at someone else who can.

* * *

Still hidden, he observes the Silver Shepherd. He knows of the hero, he heard his conversation with the TV show host, he sees the pain that sits within him. It’s not the same but it’s similar, more suited to the role than any other crackpot in this whacked out building.

Phantom watches him, carefully plucking at thoughts and feelings, doing what he can to not arouse suspicion as he nudges at Silver just enough to make the next move as obvious to him as it is to Phantom.

It’s only when Silver is despondent, sat on his bed, head in his hands, soul vibrating with pain that Phantom steps forward. Crouching before the hero, Phantom speaks firmly, directly to Silver’s soul.

“Maybe you can offer it a deal.”

Silver looks up, looking straight through the deal-maker, and Phantom sees the semi-instruction click into place. He sees the cogs in the hero’s brain turn and click together, coming to the exact conclusion that Phantom intended. So far as the hero knows it’s his own idea, meaning that the rules remain unbroken and Jim  should be home soon enough.


	52. From Bad to Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You win some, you lose some...

It’s been about two weeks in this building and Mare is slowly beginning to think that maybe he was better off caught on his own in Mad’s workshop.

Turns out, everybody loves Bing which makes Mare public enemy number one. They’re not even trying to be subtle with their angered glares whenever he’s in the room. Then there was the time that Google caught him by surprise and threw the spirit against a wall, threatening to have him exorcised if he ever touches Bing again.

The only time they’re even halfway nice to him is when Bing’s around. It’s like an unspoken rule. So most of the time Mare just hangs in the shadows around the cyborg. Out of sight, out of mind.

Even at the party, nobody notices him just sitting everything out. Nobody cares. Nobody invites him in. Then Jim’s gone and Mare tries to tell them! He tries! He’s seen that kind of thing before, but no one is listening. I mean why would they. They all just seem to look right through him and disperse leaving the spirit alone in the party room. Invisible, and ignored. Mare swears, it’s like being at Fazbear’s all over again, except nobody’s ever happy to see him.

Everybody’s losing their nut over the missing Jim and Mare just watches. If they don’t want his help, then he doesn’t give a shit. It’s not like they can hate him any more, so he just follows Bing around as he usually does, the two of them eventually winding up on babysitting duty in the clinic.

Mare smirks as he watches Jim trying to break free from the handcuffs they slapped on him while he was still out of it. There’s something kind of satisfying seeing the usually calm weirdo losing his shit and arguing and biting and scratching. Makes the world seem a little more balanced, y’know.

It’s somewhere around the third round of arguments between Bing and Jim when the door is thrown open and Silver rushes through, a sickly Jim cradled in his arms. The little dude is out of it, his lips turning blue and his arm hanging limp as Silver carries him to the bed while Bing yells for that doctor dude and handcuffed Jim goes mad trying to break free.

The handcuffs somehow pop open and Jim’s all but leaping to the other bed, throwing himself on his brother, clinging to him and begging his brother to wake up. It’s a bit….much and Mare looks away. Emotional displays are really not his thing.

His eyes turn to Silver as Bing and the doc rush forward, Mare frowning as the hero steps back. Silver’s fingers are twitching as he moves and then a tear begins to trickle down his cheek….a red tear.

“Bing.” Mare can’t reach to grab his attention and in frustration he shouts. “Bing!”

“Mare we’re-!” The cyborg turns, angry, probably ready to tear the spirit a new one but when he sees it, he freezes as well. “Silver…? Are you okay?”

The hero looks at them and Mare knows, now he  _knows_ , what’s going on here.  He takes a step forward, carefully raising a hand in an attempt at reassurance and Silver takes a step back.

“It’s o-!” Mare tries to reassure but is cut off when Silver opens his mouth, and let out a roar. Like an actual, feral, guttural, animalistic roar and they all jump back. The twitches are turning into glitches and the hero jerks, reaching his hands to clutch as his head before the air splits around him and he’s gone.

“…..well that’s not good.”


	53. Mare and Bim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When someone won't listen, you make them.

Bim jumps as Natemare appears out of nowhere, though his surprise soon turns to anger. The show host is about to say something probably derogatory when Mare just shushes him quite violently and does his best to explain that Jim has been found, Silver’s gone missing, and Dark wants to put the building on lockdown because he thinks that whatever’s happening is some kind of sickness and they can’t let it leave the building. 

“Except it’s not sickness. It’s possession.”

Bim blinks at the spirit. No doubt it’s a lot to take in but Mare hopes that there’s some part of the guy that cares about his friend more than he hates the spirit.

“How do you know?”

“I’ve possessed people before.”Mare admits.

Bim scowls flinching away, the two feet between the them somehow not enough suddenly.  “You’re disgusting.”

Mare covers his eyes and struggles not to groan at the ongoing judgement. “Yeah I get it. You guys hate me. Do you want to help me find Silver or not?”

“…How do we find him?”

Mare takes a breath as he launches into his explanation. “This thing is young, or at least inexperienced. If it knew what it was doing, it would be trying harder to hide among you. It would be more calculated and less erratic. it’s probably afraid and when you possess something you feel trapped, like you have no way out, and you fall back on base instincts. Safety, comfort.”

“So we find what makes the monster feel safe?”

“If the host is weak, yeah. The possessor has control and is the driving force. But Silver’s a world-jumper right?” The shock on Bim’s face says that he isn’t expecting the spirit to know that, but if the egos don’t want their secrets to be known then maybe they should check the shadows for spirits before having secret conversations.

Mare continues. “You get two strong minds in one body and the pressure builds. The lines between them blur and it can be hard to tell what thought came from which mind. Silver feels the instinct to flee to safety, doesn’t realise it’s not his-”

“Goes to where he feels safe.” Bim finishes, finally catching up.

"You know Silver better than anyone. Where would he go?”

Bim goes silent. Silver doesn’t do safety. He rushes headfirst into danger. He’s idiotic and reckless and doesn’t think beyond the next few minutes. It’s like he has no regard for himself, for his own safety. Realisation dawns on Bim’s face. Like he’s waiting for someone to come and save him.

“Wilford.”


	54. And the Jims?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked me 'How's Jim?'

Jim is out of it for a while. Completely unresponsive to almost anything for at least an hour. Any attempts to remove his brother from his side is deemed a waste of time within five minutes, the awake Jim refusing to move from his brother’s side, holding his brother’s hand and leaning forward, watching the sleeping Jim intently.

It’s been nearly ninety minutes when his fingers twitch, and awake!Jim leaps to his feet shouting and pulling on Jim’s hand. The sudden noise after such a long silence startles Bing who was dozing in the seat on the other side of the bed, but is now sat on the floor wondering what in the heck just happened.

There’s no other response and Jim begins to worry because this is the longest his brother has ever been quiet. Still he sits and waits and watches.

Later, when Dr Iplier comes in to check, his patient is still out cold, though he’s starting to get back some color, and he’s turned slightly towards the side on which the other Jim has fallen asleep, draped against the edge of the bed. They’re still holding hands, both gripping quite tightly.

Unknown to the Dr, in the shadows, a well-dressed man with a cane is watching very intently, glad that his little plan worked.

Phantom raises a finger to his lips and quietly and gently shushes you. Both the Jims have had a long day or so. Now they have each other back. Let them sleep.


	55. Silver's Grey Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does Bim know where Silver will go?

_A few years ago…_

“Talk to me Tobi.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Tobi.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Please just tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s a grey day and Tobi is curled in on himself, doing his best to block out the world around him. He hates it here. He doesn’t want to be here. He’s shaking as he feels Bim’s hand rubbing at his back. He’s trying to be reassuring but it’s not working.

There’s silence for a few more moments before Tobi mumbles that he wants to go home.

“…We’re in your room.” Bim sounds confused.

“ _MY_  home.” Not this madhouse filled with the not-him and the not-Will and the other crazies who just look at him like he has a second head, all of them waiting for him to lose his mind and become like the not-him.

“Oh.”

Tobi waits for the hand at his back to disappear, he waits for Bim to give up and walk out because that’s how these things work. Nobody ever stays. Nobody ever cares. Everybody,  _everybody_ , always leaves him.

“Tell me about Will again.”

Tobi looks up, eyes tired, watery, half-glaring at Bim. He knows what Bim is trying to do, and he’s not being subtle about it. Except Bim does look genuinely interested, despite having heard this about a hundred times before. And maybe it’ll help.

“I didn’t always have a human form. I was….I guess you’d say like a smog cloud or something.” Bim laughs. “Don’t laugh. I didn’t pick it. ” Though Tobi himself is smiling slightly. “I found the smiling man and the nervous lady and when they realised I wasn’t going to hurt them they were so bright and happy to see me, every time.

“Then the war came for them. Soldiers burst in and shot the lady and dragged the smiling man away screaming. She was dying and he was gone, so I joined with her soul. I wanted to save her. I wanted to save him.

“Her soul gave me a human form, but I was grey, and distorted. Suddenly I felt things and I knew things and I set out wanting to save Will. Because that’s what we both wanted.”

Tobi pauses, his fingers curling tight, fingernails digging into his palms as he remembers.

“I was too late. They’d made him into a berserker soldier. A weapon that would kill without prejudice, to release onto the battlefield when the fight was already lost. When I found him, he was the only one alive, stood on top of a pile of corpses, chastising them for falling asleep on the job.

“I startled him and he shot me. But he took me for help. Told me he knew what I was, what I’d done and promised he’d look after me. He even gave me a name.”

“What was your name?”

Silver falls silent. It’s always painful to remember because he knows what this name had meant to the smiling man and the nervous lady. What they had planned to use it for. And yet Will….Will just gave it to him. “…..Damien.”

Bim reaches to pull Tobi in for a hug. If he thought for even a second that he could convince his friend to stop his story there then he would, but the hero never stops there.

“Hundreds of years, it was me and Will. But then he’d disappear and I’d wait for him to come back. Sometimes for years. And when he was there it was like it always was. Just the two of us against the world….but then he’d leave again.

“Then I realised. I realised he was only coming back when I was in trouble. When people would accuse me of murder, when they would see me as a monster because of how I looked. Always Will would swoop in at the last minute and save me.” Tobi allows himself to be held. It doesn’t help as much as he wishes it did. But he’s come to accept that he’s probably never going to feel right again.

“I hadn’t seen him for nearly two years before I wound up here. And I nearly died twice.” Literally close to drawing his last breath, levels of dying. Yet Will never came back.

On Tobi’s grey days, he remembers the smiling man. How all he wanted was to save him and how he failed. How the smiling man became a broken husk who slowly started to give up on him. At least that’s how he sees it. Why else would he never see Will any more? Will probably hasn’t even noticed that ‘Damien’ is gone.

On grey days, he can’t leave his room for fear of running into Wilford who’s so much like Will that sometimes it hurts just to stand near him. Tobi’s never even said ‘hello’ to the pink man because he can feel Dark watching his every move. When he hears Dark call Wilford ‘Will’ it makes him want to throw up.

All Tobi wants to do on his grey days is to see Will again. But that’s never going to happen. And sometimes a grey day will turn into a grey week. When this happens, all Bim can do is his best, because that’s all he can offer.


	56. Ominous to the Omnipresent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would seem that someone's keeping secrets

Dr Iplier, is washing his hands, having finally found the time to replace the Host’s bandages after dealing with the Jims as much as he could manage. The Host is slowly pushing himself to his feet, reaching with his powers to check on his oldest friend as he works.

Iplier, has a tendency to keep secrets, a rather annoying habit that the former Author has only himself to blame for. There had always been something intriguing about a secretive doctor that gripped him. The idea of someone you’re supposed to trust being untrustworthy. It had been the unintended cause of that awful habit of diagnosing everything as impending death. If all a doctor does is tell you you’re dying, then why would you trust him with your life?

Since the Host left the moniker of the Author behind though, the good doctor seems to be have gotten better with that. A certain sense of pride had swelled in his chest when Dr Iplier had explained hypnagogia while they were trying to work with Bing through that whole mess with Natemare.

Still, when your greatest friend, and secret creator, is a powerful psychic, it’s very hard to maintain any level of secrecy.

The doctor’s hands have been shaking since he entered the room, and there’s a tension that follows him around. As he moves to put away the bandages, the Host grabs the doctor’s arm, and holds firm. No words pass between them. Dr Iplier merely looks at the Host before pulling an old worn book from his pocket and holding it out.

The Host takes the strange book in both his hands, turning it over and over, running his fingers across the cover and down the spine as Iplier continues to put away the bandages and other resources. It’s almost like it’s humming. Magic? No. It doesn’t feel like it. Not directly at least. The cover is old; worn but firm leather that holds it together and speaks volumes of its age. It’s definitely not unfamiliar to him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks.

“It was beside Jim’s bed.” Iplier closes the cupboard as he puts things away. When the two of them had finally, _finally_ fallen asleep, it was just sat there on the side and Iplier isn’t ashamed to admit his curiosity got the better of him.

The Host turns the book over. “Does it have a title?”

“The Book of Phantom. It’s blank though.” A waste of a sneaky look to be frank but still, something had compelled him to pocket the book. He freezes. Thinking about it, that’s probably something that should have unnerved him more at the time.

The book is turned over once or twice more, before the Host turns and throws it at the far wall of the room with force.

It never hits the wall, caught by a well-dressed man seemingly appearing from nowhere, but who you’ll find has been right there all along. As the doctor sees him, he jumps, instinctively drawing closer to the Host.

“The Host does not appreciate your meddling.” His firm voice leaves little room for negotiation, his arm still extended from the toss. “He would appreciate if you left the doctor alone.”

“You’ll forgive me my idle curiosity.”  With a flourish of Phantom’s hand, the book is gone and he gives a smirk. “I was curious if your _new_ friend would even see anything.” There’s a mild hunger to his eyes as they travel to the doctor. “Apparently not.”

“The Host will forgive nothing.” He throws out an arm, placing it between Phantom and Iplier, though neither of them move any closer. “He has no interest in any of your deals. Your tests are of no worth to him.”

Phantom shifts, folding his hands over the top of his cane as he stands firm tilting his head slightly. “True, my tests won’t work on you.” his lips curl back into a grin. “But who says _I’m_ the one with your test?”

“Host?” The doctor is nervous but the Host silences him before he turns back to the Phantom.

“Speak.”

Picking up his cane, Phantom slowly steps forward, never taking his eyes away from the Host’s bandages. “You can lie to yourself but I know you feel it. _He’s_ coming. And there’s little you or this little band of misfits you call family can do to hold him off.”

The air becomes thin as Phantom speaks, a mad spark lighting in his eyes that pushes the doctor back yet another step. The Host is unfazed, meeting Phantom’s approach with a calm anger that doesn’t buckle.

“You should leave now.” he says calmly. “Before I remind you what I’m really capable of.”

Dr Iplier’s hand slaps over his mouth as the two of them stare at each other. After several moments the Phantom gives a small bow, still smirking, and in a blink is gone.

The Host turns to the doctor whose hand is still clasped over his mouth. He can feel the doctor’s shock even without his psychic abilities.

“You can say it.” he offers, all anger seemingly gone.

“You used the first person!” Iplier blurts loudly, jabbing an accustory finger at the Host. He’s known the Host his whole life, which honestly isn’t as long as that phrase might usually suggest, but the Host has never used the first person. Shock seems to be his main reaction but beyond that, what in the fuck does it mean?!

Running a hand through his hair, brushing it up and away from his bandages, the Host gives a slight smile.

“The Host doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”


	57. It's Not Easy Being Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green seems to gravitate towards Green...

“I still say this is a waste of our time.”

The red droid grumbles as he’s connected to the Googles’ server by Green. Despite their frequent cloud backups, once a month each of the Google’s gets backed up to the server, that way in the event of catastrophic failure or cloud error, they will always be able to restore to some recent point in their history. This week it’s Red’s turn, and as usual he’s not looking forward to it.

“Your disagreement has been logged and ignored.” Green responds as he secures the last few connections. It’s the same disagreement every time and Green refuses to apologise for being cautious. “It’s going to save one of us one day.”

“You’re such a pessimist.” Red grunts as his connection sparks to life. His eyes instantly droop and his protestations cease. The procedure is energy consuming, and they usually have to either switch to sleep mode or just stay still and silent while the procedure occurs. Red’s tends to favor the latter.

Minutes pass, the backup slowly starting, Green closely monitoring it and quietly talking to Red so that they aren’t just sat in silence. He finds that it reassures Red to know that he’s not been left alone. Not that his brother would ever admit it. Red has this idea in his coding that he’s supposed to be the strong one so he infrequently asks for support himself. Green’s tendency to overanalyse ever situation easily picks up on it though and he’ll happily do what is necessary to make sure his brother is in good operational health.

A loud crash sounds and Green has to physically force Red to stay seated. If he breaks the connection now, the back up could become corrupted and there could be blow back into Red’s systems.

“Stay!” he orders, shoving Red back into the seat before he calls out. “Who is it?” With an array of magic users in the building, strange noises are not uncommon, but a loud one within the computer lab is definitely cause for immediate concern.

Green’s eyes flash as he goes towards the sound, scanning for immediate threat, though he stops when he sees a chair on the ground, with a green-haired magician splayed across it groaning. Threat level designated minimal, Green takes a breath and shakes his head slightly. “I’m guessing that this is not where you were aiming for.”

Marvin groans, “I knew there was something I forgot to do”

It takes him several moments for Marvin to right himself, carefully extracting himself from the chair and clambering to his feet. Green watches in curiosity.

“You’re not very experienced with magic are you?”

“Not really.” he laughs awkwardly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “But Dark locked me in his room because of the whole….” he coughs, catching himself before he continues and looks off to the side, catching sight of where he landed. “I didn’t break anything did I?”

Primary assessment of the situation says no. Marvin hasn’t landed near anything of real importance and if the chair is broken, it’s easily replaceable. Marvin however looks like he may have sustained some damage, a little bruised from the landing with a small cut on his cheek.

There’s the sound of shuffling from the next room over and Green turns, yelling at the doorway. “Red I swear, if you’re not in that seat when I come back in there, I am turning you off!” There’s more shuffling and then silence as he approaches. Sure enough when he reaches the door, Red is in his seat, eyes still dropped but looking suitably guilty.

Marvin slowly follows, glancing over Green’s shoulder in curiosity. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Not if Red stays in that seat.” Green glares at Red but the red droid doesn’t respond. After a moment he turns to Marvin. “Wait did you say that Dark  _locked you_  in his room?”

The magician laughs awkwardly and explains that they had a bit of a disagreement that had ultimately ended in yes, the magician getting locked in Dark’s room but that Marvin isn’t the kind to like locks so he’d attempted to teleport his way out….and ended up two feet above the floor in the Googles’ computer lab.

Green listens carefully and sighs. “You know we have a few seasoned magic people in the building. Maybe you ought to ask for some tutoring. Or else next time you might appear up one of King of the Squirrels trees.”

Marvin looks at him for a moment before picking up on the slightly too subtle hint to leave and making his way out. It’s a good point though. Maybe he should go find Bim. He seems an alright guy and then he can avoid Dark’s rage for a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling a bit with writing at the minute so I'm taking prompts.  
> If you have any requests/situations you want to see with the egos from Not As You Know Them, let me know either in the comments or message me over on altegos on tumblr and I will give it a go to try and break my writing issues.


	58. The Host's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a psychic gives you a present, trust that they know what they're doing.

Bing pauses at the door for only a moment before raising his hand to knock. It’s the Host’s door. The place where no one knows how to find unless the Host wants you to find it and according to what the doc told him, the Host wants to see the cyborg.

“Come in.”

As Bing walks in, he’s a little shameless in his staring. So far as he knows, no one has ever been granted access to the Host’s room, at least not since he moved in, so he’s kind of curious what’s in here.

It’s a lot simpler than he was expecting. A desk, a bed, several bookcases packed with books, which considering the Host is blind is really weird, a bean bag? The Host doesn’t strike him as that kind of guy. Still you can’t fault comfort.

“You wanted to see me?”

The Host is sat at the desk, and at Bing’s entrance he turns. He’s smiling which is kind of unnerving given how stern and serious he usually is. “Bing. You are doing well?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess?” he’s not quite sure how to respond and when the Host laughs he’s a little unnerved.

“Apologies. The Host understands we are in the midst of another crisis and ‘being well’ is possibly not the best term. The Host means, are you recovering well from your….unpleasantness?”

A shiver runs down Bing’s spine and he’s grateful that that’s all the detail the Host goes into.

“Oh, yeah. All sorted.” he lifts his hand and flexes his fingers more than once. It’s kind of weird how much smoother everything seems since he’s been put back together. Google wasn’t lying when he said it was an upgrade. Bing hadn’t even realised how slow and kind of stuttery his old parts were until he really got into using the new stuff. “Kind of weird though.”

“No doubt it’s an adjustment.” The Host pushes himself to his feet, pausing to brush himself down and straighten his jacket. “Since your physical recovery is all but complete, Google has requested that the Host check in with you up there.” he raises a finger and taps the side of his own head. “So long as you are agreeable.”

Bing is hesitant, sure the Host has been in his head before but still, it feels like kind of an invasion, especially since there’s nothing wrong up there anymore. “Do y’…do y’gotta?”

“Better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?” The Host offers out his hand and Bing stares at it. This is probably the real scary bit. The bit where the Host convinces you it’s your choice but Bing honestly wonders if he plays some kind of mind hoohah that makes you say yes.

When Bing puts his human hand in the Host’s, the room around them melts into darkness and he panics. The Host’s free hand grasps tightly to Bing’s robotic arm, he learned his lesson after last time and intends to reassure the cyborg that everything is okay.

The gesture is grounding and the panic, fleeting. Bing stares at the darkness around them, listening to a thousand familiar voices from a thousand different encounters. It’s a disconcerting experience that’s over within minutes. The room returns, and the Host draws away.

“All is well.” the Host smiles, patting Bing’s robotic arm, “But even so, the Host has a….” he pauses, “… _gift_  for you.Just in case.”

“In case? In case of what?”

The Host doesn’t respond, moving to retrieve something that he keeps by the side of his desk, picking it up and holding it out for Bing who just stares at it.

“…..It’s a bat.”

“It’s a weapon.” The Host corrects. A worn baseball bat lays in his hands and he takes the handle in one, gesturing for Bing to step back, as he gives it a half-swing. “One that the Host used to use when things weren’t going the way he wanted.” his face has a dreamy look as he clasps the bat in both hands again before offering it to Bing. “You may need it.”

“……But it’s a  _bat_.” In a building where there are robots and magic users and whatever the hell Mare is, what the heck kind of use will a baseball bat be?

The Host frowns. He thrusts it at Bing. “Trust the Host. You’re going to need it.”

Bing holds the bat in his hands and despite it being kind of old and dull looking, there is kind of a hum to it as it presses against his fingers. If it’s the Host, chances are it’s got some kind of magic weirdness flowing through it and though he thanks the Host, Bing’s not even two steps down the corridor before he’s resolved to hide it away.

It’s weird but it’s almost like the bat itself is telling him……not yet…….


	59. Reason or Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The important thing is that everybody remains calm.

Wilford’s studio is brightly lit, an array of bright color and glitter that might almost be offensive to the eye but somehow when combined it just manages to work. Silver steps out and glances around at the cameras that face the color, shrouded in darkness. It hurts

**H̨ u̧͞ ̴rt̨͏s͘̕͞**

There’s just something about the grey space between the two, the color and the dark, that makes him shake and distort and glitch as he walks.

**S̢t͜ ̷̷̕o̴͜͞ o͏͞p̵̨**

He freezes.

**S҉̛c ̸a̢̡ ̡͏̶r̨̡͡e̡̢̢d**

Closing his eyes, Silver fights the urge to break down. He shouldn’t be here. This is Wilford’s studio. He doesn’t belong here. If Dark finds out-

“Silver.” He turns. Wilford is stood at the other end of the studio, giving a slight smile. “How you doing buddy?”

Wilford and Silver don’t talk. Wilford has never called him buddy. Silver steps back and the pink man raises a hand to try and reassure him. “No no, it’s okay. You’re safe here. I promise.”

**s̡ ̛a ͠f͝ e͠ ?͞**

Silver twitches and shakes in confusion. This….this doesn’t make sense.

“Tobi?”

Silver turns. Bim is stood at the other side of the studio and he looks scared. Is Bim scared of him? He probably should be, but he doesn’t want Bim to be scared. Silver reaches up to clasp at the side of his head.

“I̷-I d̛o͘n'̨t.͜.̸.̛I don͜'t kno͟w…” his voice is scratchy and strange and he stops talking. It sounds wrong and he feels the thing in his head shift.

**S͟͡t̷a̶ ̸͠y̧ ͡ ̛b̨ ̡a͜c͏̧̡ ̵̸k̵**

The two slowly inch closer but neither of them is moving fast. Silver keeps twitching and growls. “Get͏ ͠aw̴a͝y̶ f͡r͜o̸m̨ ͡me!”

They move closer but Silver sees something. Just beyond the light, in the darkness, beside the camera, probably invisible to everyone else is a familiar mess of green hair falling over a shocked face.

“M̛͟a͝r͡v̡i̛n͢?”

Wilford and Bim turn and Bim calls out for him to freeze. Marvin doesn’t listen and takes a step back, his hands raised and his face in panic.

 **M̧̫̞̜͓ͅa͙̟̻͉̟͓̕R̷̡̘̣͓͚̜̳͘v̸͈͍̩̬̦ ̶̫͈i͏͏͉̻͓̮̖̪n͏͉̯͔̦̭**  

Anger  ~~it isn’t his~~  swells and consumes Silver. He jerks and launches himself at the magician. He never reaches Marvin though, collapsing to the floor, Natemare crouching over him, a hand pushing against the poor hero’s back, keeping him asleep.

“Sorry man.” he mutters.

They need to contain him before he gets away again.


	60. Time For Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best of friends can sometimes be the greatest of enemies.

The door slams open and the meeting room is swallowed by the writhing black mass of Dark’s aura. Marvin, sat at the far end of the room looks nervous while Wilford is stood beside him, the barrel of his revolver pointing at the magician’s head.

“Put down the gun or I will break off your hand.” Pure fury blazes from Dark while his aura lashes out, breaking a nearby chair and striking at the table.

“We’re just having a talk. Won’t you join us?” there’s no levity to Wilford’s voice as he speaks, and he indicates the seat opposite Marvin.

Wilford is stood at the head of the table, occupying the spot that is usually reserved for Dark but the grey ego feels that now may not be the time to remind him of this.

“Drop the gun.”

“Sit down!” Wilford’s anger speaks of a fire that Dark hasn’t seen in his friend in a long time. An anger that he often forgets given how bright his friend usually is.

Straightening his tie, Dark stalks his way through the room, reaching the chair and slowly sitting in it. He glances over to Marvin, catching the magician’s eye. Marvin gives a small shake of his head. He isn’t hurt, but with Wilford waving his gun around, it may not stay that way.

When Dark is sat, Wilford speaks. “Something attacked Jim. Then it took Silver. When we found it, it was confused but calm. Then it sees your pixie,” he indicates Marvin with the barrel who flinches, “becomes enraged, and attacks. Now why would that be?”

Dark’s aura is still raging but the man himself is a picture of calm. Marvin is huddled, head hanging and his shoulders hunched. It looks like neither of them is offering any kind of explanation.

“I may be a bit of an airhead, but I’m not an idiot.” he pushes the barrel against the side of Marvin’s head. The magician closes his eyes tightly. “You want to keep secrets that’s fine. Everybody here has them. But  _you_ ,” he moves the gun to point at Dark, jabbing it at him, “promised everyone in this building your protection. Jim wasn’t safe. Silver  _isn’t_  safe. ” Dark doesn’t respond, his lips set in a firm line. “This pixie is distracting you from your duty to them.” the gun returns to Marvin. “So why shouldn’t I just shoot him?”

Dark’s calm demeanour cracks as he distorts, rising to his feet, unfazed by the gun suddenly pointed at his temple. His words are barely restrained, filled with fury yet still even. “Try it and I’ll pull your lungs out through your throat.”

“You haven’t got it in you  _old man_!” Wilford shouts back.

“I-”

“Stop!” Marvin’s voice cuts between them, drawing their attention to him. He’s on his feet and he still looks afraid but its not of the madman with the gun..“I can get him to come out of Silver…I just need to talk to him.”

There’s a beat before Wilford uncocks his gun and it disappears into his void. He indicates the door. “Shall we then?”


	61. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every secret has an expiry date.

They stalk in silence through the halls to the Google’s lab.

Silver is stood in the plastic prison, his hands pressed firmly against the wall as he glares at everybody on the other side. Bim is stood nearby, biting his nails while Oliver tries to reassure him. Mare is stood back, hovering about over in the corner. Google and Green are making sure that the prison is set up properly, neither of them honestly sure if this will even work, while Red stands ready to jump him if he escapes. All of this prep could be for nothing. As Marvin steps forward, Silver catches sight of him and slams his fists against the wall in anger with a yell.

A hand on Marvin’s shoulder makes him turn. Dark looks firm. “You don’t have to do this.” Marvin looks back at him for a moment before reaching to brush the hand away. Yeah. He kinda does.

He can feel his heart beating in his ears as he takes a step closer. “I’m sorry.”

Confusion ripples across the room as everybody looks on in confusion. Silver’s anger is dampened but still there as he glitches in place.

“Let him go.”

Silver draws back a step. “ **N̸o̧̧.̵͝** ”

“You don’t need him. I’m right here.” No more running. No more hiding. “Let. Silver. Go.”

“ **Doe̢sn’̢t ҉f͡eel si͠lv̕er. ̨F̨ȩels̛ k͜i̛nda g̨re̛y.** ” he lets out a high-pitched giggle and Bim turns away unable to watch.

Marvin winces at the laugh, the same one that’s been haunting him for years now. He takes another step forward and hears Dark call out for him to stop. Wilford is holding his friend back, In his head Marvin begs Dark to trust him.

Silver tilts his head and scowls. “ **Y͞o͢u h̨u͏rt ̶me̴.** ”

“I know.”

“ **Y̸ou kee̶p̨ hu̡r̕tin͜g̢ me.** ”

“I know I do.” he takes a shaky breath. “But I’m scared.”

Silver roars, glitching ferociously as he throws himself at the wall. It shakes but holds. “ **Y̵O͜͠Ų̷͘’̢R̵E͜ ̛͘͝S̸̡C̶͝A̸͜R̷͟͝E̕D͡͝?̕͘!̵** ”

Marvin flinches. Tears fight to fall from his eyes but Marvin manages to swallow them down again. He glances off to the side, no longer able to look at Silver.

“ **Y͘͢ơ̴u̢ ͘P̷͜R͜҉OM̸̵̡I͜͟S͡E̡͟D!** ” Silver roars. “ **Y͡҉̢o̵u͟͡ P͘҉R̨̛͝O̕M͜I̵S̡E̢̕D!͠** ”

Silver’s words become incoherent as his voice crackles and pops more, words disappearing in a mess of static as he continues to throw himself at the wall, desperate to break it down.

Marvin presses himself against the wall, his hands raised to either side, his eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the sounds of everyone around them starting to panic and prepare for the worst.

“Anti please.” he whispers, the tears slip free and slowly drip down his cheeks. “ _Please_ let him go.”

The horrific sounds end as something slumps to the floor. Marvin opens his eyes, to see Silver on the ground, while his brother stands on the other side of the wall, his hands pressed against where Marvin’s are, his forehead leaning against the glass. Bright green eyes shine beneath scruffy green hair, longer than Marvin’s, but other than that they look practically the same. His form is broken, glitchy, barely there, and as he speaks, his voice sounds broken and distorted.

“ **I̡'͝m sc̷ared.** ”


	62. Marvin and Anti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wrong path taken starts with a single mis-step

The Blake twins are a curious pair, from the moment they arrive at the children’s home.

Anthony is boisterous, adventurous. To him life is an adventure, a challenge to be conquered. If he were to stand toe to toe with Death himself, Anthony would probably punch the air and charge head on.

His brother Marvin couldn’t be more different. Timid, shy, barely speaks a word and when he does, he struggles to get them to come out right. Anthony’s name is especially difficult so Marvin calls him ‘Anti’; much easier. His reserved nature makes him somewhat of a target to bullies and more than once Anthony ends up in trouble picking fights with anyone who dares to hurt his brother.

They grow up inseparable. Anti always firmly bringing his brother along with him, pulling Marvin out of his shell every step of the way.

They’re just hitting their teen years when it starts to show that Marvin has powers. Anti walks in on him making a bedside table levitate and after the initial shock wears off, he does everything he can to get his brother some kind of teacher for it. Of course he’s also waiting for the day he starts doing something amazing too. It never comes.

Marvin doesn’t do well with the teachers, they’re harsh and shout and Marvin panics and runs. It’s after the fifth teacher damn near curses his brother, that Anti promises Marvin he doesn’t have to go to them any more.

Over the years, Marvin becomes slowly more confident, slowly more assertive but still he is nothing compared to Anti. And when the day finally comes, the two of them move out of the children’s home, ready to find their way in the world.

That’s when things go wrong.

Both of them work, sometimes their schedules don’t line up and Anti can go weeks without seeing hide nor hair of his brother. The only reason he walks in on Marvin’s little magic session is because he was sick so work sent him home early.

Pushing open the door he finds his brother sat in the middle of some devil looking shit. Candles, magic spell ingredients, a giant-ass book. Anti likes nothing he sees.

“What are you doing!”

Marvin doesn’t look up from the book. “I’m getting mom and dad back.”

“Marvin, they’re gone!”

“But they don’t have to be!”

The two of them fight back and forth, Anti shouting that Marvin needs to stop, to put the book down, come away, they’ll make smores or something. Marvin just shouts back that he has to have been given these powers for something! What if this was it?! What if he was supposed to bring their parents back!

Marvin continues, fighting off Anti when his brother tries to stop him and when the spell is finished, they both feel it. A literal tearing at their souls. Anti barely gets a breath before he feels himself get torn to shreds and scattered.


	63. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left behind...

Marvin doesn’t remember his parents, but he remembers wishing they were there. He remembers wishing he could ask his mom about his magic, or his dad about dating. He remembers wishing he had someone to give a present to on mother’s day or father’s day. He remembers wishing that someone was there to hold him close when things got really hard and he couldn’t explain why. Someone just to hold him close and love him. Y’know, a family. Of course he has Anti, and he loves that, but he can’t help but wish that Anti would have someone as well.

He knows that Anti doesn’t really approve of Marvin messing with magic too much. Since the tutoring failed, Anti prefers him to stick to simple stuff, card tricks, sleight of hand, that kind of stuff. Nothing too dangerous that’s out of Marvin’s league. That’s why, when he finds the resurrection spell, he keeps it a secret, slowly gathering ingredients, pulling it together. He can’t help but to smile at the idea of his brother coming in and seeing their parents stood there. They could be a real family again!

Except Anti walks in on it and he’s not happy. He’s angry. Then he gets pissed. Marvin fights him when Anti tries to stop him. Doesn’t Anti see that this is just what they need? That maybe this is why Marvin has this damn magic? What if he’s supposed to make things all better again!

Even as his brother continues to argue, Marvin finishes the spell. His breath catches as he feels something just rip across him, like a monstrous claw just slices at the edge of his soul and Marvin falls to the floor with a scream.

He waits for Anti to shout at him, waits for him to say it’s all okay, but there’s no sound. Marvin looks up. The room looks like an explosion went off. Furniture, books, keepsakes, all of it thrown towards the walls, several things burned, a couple things slightly on fire. No sign of Anti.

“A-anti?” Marvin’s voice is quiet as he pushes himself up. Nothing. No response. “An-anti!”

Marvin spends days searching the apartment, tearing what’s left of it to pieces, looking for some hidden trap door, some sign, something! Anti can’t have just disappeared into thin air! He can’t!

It’s been a week with no sleep. He’s given the search and the last two days have been spent searching the spell to find what he did wrong. But there’s nothing. He’s looked at it upside down, back to front, inside out, translated it to several different supposed languages of origin to try and find it, but there’s nothing. It should have worked!

Marvin feels dead inside, cold. It’s like his arm is missing, or his nose. He doesn’t remember what it feels like to not have silent tears streaming down his face. This is all his fault. It’s all his fault. It’s all his fault. It’s all his fault.

He finally passes out with this thought bouncing around his head on the seventh night. He dreams of their parents.

Anti’s not there, he’s gone round someone else’s house. Mom and Dad are fighting again and he’s curled up in the corner crying. Every time he asks them to stop they hit him and so he’s praying they’ll forget he’s there. He knows he’ll have to hide the bruises from Anti but right now Marvin just wants the ground to swallow him whole.

“Marv?” He turns and Anti’s sat next to him. He shuffles closer and curls close to his brother, tears streaming down his cheeks as Anti pats his hair. The car they’re in is really bumping over the road and it’s starting to make Marvin sick to his stomach.

“It’s okay.” A strange voice from the front seat promises them. “They won’t hurt you ever again.”


	64. Overwhelming Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It can be hard to keep things together

Marvin wakes with a scream. It’s dark, Marvin not having turned on a light in days, yet even in the dark he can make out the shadowy figure looming over him. There’s a heavy weight on his chest, but when he goes to shove it away, his hands pass through. One arm of the shadow figure is plunged into his chest and he can feel his heart racing, pushing adrenaline through his body, his breath catching, his eyes watering. It won’t move. Marvin squeezes his eyes shut, raises his hands in a panic and

**BOOM!**

Blue light explodes from him, throwing the shadow across the room and Marvin scrambles away, curling into a ball, his fingers pulling at his hair as he stares at the point where it disappeared.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His brain can’t think straight. This is all his fault. He doesn’t know how or why, but he killed his brother. He just wanted his family back together and now he has no one. “I’m sorry Anti. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” It becomes a mantra as he rocks back and forth, the shadow seemingly forgotten as he breaks down.

The days all pass in a blurry haze. He can’t explain to anyone what happened to his brother and Marvin knows he can’t handle the investigations, the police, the panic, the blame, the horror, the nightmare of facing what he’s done and lying to everyone about it. So he packs up what little he has left and leaves.

Sleep isn’t important, the magician forgoing it for as long as he can manage, every time awaking to the same shadow figure with its arm plunged into his chest. The first few times he panics and fights it, but then, each time he wakes, it looks more and more like Anti and he realises. It’s not real. It’s just a hallucination. Some kind of magical punishment for what he did. So he stops fighting. Instead he closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to look, and just waits for it to leave.

Three months since he lost his brother, Marvin awakes and he sees the figure stood over him again. His hand isn’t plunged in the magician’s chest this time but Marvin mutters his tired, quiet apology and closes his eyes again. After a moment, the bed beside him compresses, a weight pressing down beside him.

Marvin doesn’t open his eyes until he feels the arms wrap around him, holding him tight and pulling him close. It doesn’t make sense, nothing does, but as Marvin looks up, he sees the strange form of his brother. It’s unmistakably Anti, though distorted and glitched and grinning like a madman, certainly not the way he remembers his brother looking but it’s been so long! The arms wrapped around him are his brother’s and Marvin stares in utter shock.

“A-anti?” his voice is rough from lack of use but the form grins at him and when their eyes meet, Anti gives a wink.

And Marvin breaks down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have had huge inspiration for the Jim Twins origin so keep an eye out for the fic about that.  
> Unfortunately I couldn't weave it in to this story so it's going to be separate.


	65. Glitched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does it feel...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it posted the next chapter instead of this one yesterday. I'm sorry bout that.

He’s nothing. For almost a week, Anti is nothing. He’s aware but there is nothing to him. He is nowhere. But he’s still with Marvin and watches as his brother slowly breaks. He watches Marvin slave over the spell looking for the reason. For where he went wrong and Anti wishes he could tell him. Wishes he could remind Marvin of the truth.

When Marvin finally falls asleep, a long time has passed and there’s still barely anything to him as he reaches out, desperate to hold his brother. As the shadowy form of what might have been an arm if it wasn’t near non-existent makes contact with Marvin’s chest, Anti sees his brother’s dreams. He sees the nightmares and no matter how hard he tries he can’t stop them. Their whole lives he’s fought to protect his brother from their past, from what Marvin managed to erase of their parents. But now Marvin is alone and Anti is useless. Anger rises, frustration, and Anti feels himself pull on Marvin’s magic, he feels a slight weight to himself. He’s shocked when Marvin wakes up and manages to attack him.

Over the coming weeks, when Marvin sleeps, Anti reaches into his dreams and wills them to change. They never do but he’s not ignorant to his growing strength as he feeds on his brother’s pain, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In fact after a while, he isn’t even trying to stop the dreams any more.

Anti knows Marvin can see him and he doesn’t fight back, which makes things so much easier. The urge to take everything, to take more rises every night and though he just about restrains himself, he notices that his brother doesn’t seem very well rested when he finally gets up. Part of him hates it, another, louder, angrier, more powerful part loves it.

Time seems to drag, but eventually when Anti reaches for his brother, he finds that he’s solid enough to actually make contact. It wakes Marvin, but his brother does nothing and Anti blinks. It takes a while, readjusting to having a form, but Anti eventually grabs his brother and pulls him into what can loosely be called a hug. When Marvin says his name, Anti grins at him and says that it’s okay.

It’s obvious that Anti isn’t human any more. Everything feels way too slow. Patience and control are just words that mean nothing. When he thinks of something he wants to do it and he does it, unless Marvin manages to restrain him, which he’s not all that great at doing. Consequence. That’s another funny word. Anti find he can barely look too far forward but it doesn’t matter.

Anti has never felt stronger. Finally he’s every bit his brother’s equal. He may not be equal but they soon realise he is far more powerful. When he gets really excited, Anti screams. When he screams, things break. Then he breaks other things. It’s all a glorious mess and for Anti,  every day is another adventure.

And it’s okay because Marvin’s always there to pick up the pieces.


	66. Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody has their limits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Potential Trigger Warnings: vague references of physical abuse, allusions to past physical abuse, heavily implied self-blame/victim mindset, heavily implied sense of depression and hopelessness
> 
> For a trigger free summary of this update, please see end notes
> 
>  
> 
> In case you are wondering why you are seeing this update again, it turns out it published this update yesterday when it was supposed to post the previous chapter Glitched. Please go back to chapter 64 for the update. Sorry x

It’s all his fault. That’s what he tells himself when he has to figure out how to use his magic from stopping Anti hurting everyone around him. When a stranger who’s ‘talking too loud on the phone’ and has done no actual wrong sends Anti into a frenzy, suddenly he’s two seconds away from getting torn apart by an angry glitch and Marvin has to stop Anti, because it’s his fault.

When Anti gets angry, and he gets angry a lot, furniture goes flying, things get thrown, voices get loud. Anti gets mad and he’ll start punching and beating and attacking, and Marvin has to step into the way or see innocent bystanders get beaten for  _his_  mistake.

Marvin winds up black and blue, and he slowly starts to remember. He remembers their parents weren’t dead. That after a few years of Marvin supposedly ‘falling down the stairs’, his parents were deemed unfit and Marvin and Anti were taken away. He remembers how his brother was always there. Always. Even when someone wanted to foster him, Anti refused to leave without him.

And now Anti’s the one doing it. And there’s no one there. And it’s all Marvin’s fault because he was too selfish, too stupid to realise that he was trying to resurrect two people who didn’t love him, and in doing so destroyed the only one who did…

On the quiet nights, Marvin uses his magic sparingly in an attempt to heal his aching body. He’s still not very good though, and he doesn’t trust himself, but if he doesn’t try something, he won’t be able to get out of bed the next morning.

Anti sits nearby, watching in silence as Marvin finally crawls into bed. It’s barely moments later that the mattress shifts beside him and Anti wraps a protective arm around his brother. From what Marvin can tell, Anti doesn’t sleep any more, but every night, he always holds Marvin until he falls asleep. By the time Marvin wakes up, the bed is cold and Anti’s gone.

It’s a Thursday when things go very wrong. Something sets Anti off. The apartment is in tatters, everything that isn’t nailed down is getting thrown around and Anti is screaming at everything. Marvin is trying to calm him down, but everything just seems to infuriate him even more. Then Anti turns, his eyes jet black, and rushes at Marvin, slamming Marvin against the wall and pinning him there with a single hand around the magician’s neck.

Marvin chokes as the fingers begin to squeeze, Anti giggling as he watches his brother struggling to breathe.

“ **Y̵̨ou̸͞ ͜͢m̨̨͡a̴̛de͞ m͡e̛͟ ̶t͜hi̛ş͘.** “ he giggles. “ **A̴̕r̸͜e̶͜n̛'͞t ̵y͏̷ou͟ ̵p̧̡͝roud̷?͏** ”

The edge of Marvin’s vision starts to fade, and for a moment it seems like this is it, Anti’s going to kill him. But then suddenly the pressure is gone and Marvin collapses to the floor hacking and gasping, desperate for breath.

Anti is gone. Anti’s been gone a long time. This thing isn’t his brother and Marvin can’t stay here. If he does, he’s going to die. Silent tears fall as Marvin forces himself to his feet and grabs the essentials. He can’t do this. It’s his fault but he can’t do it any more. Anti was always the strong one and Marvin is ashamed to admit that he can probably never be good enough to pay his brother back.

Marvin goes on the run. It’s probably the only thing he’s good at. He can feel Anti coming after him and hears stories of this demon destroying the places he’s been and Marvin hates himself because he knows this is all his fault but he can’t fix this. He isn’t strong enough…but Dark is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger free summary (let me know if it isn't)
> 
> Anti is violent and aggressive and Marvin believes that anyone his brother injures is on him. So he steps in the way and makes sure no one but him gets hurt.  
> This brings up memories of their parents and Marvin realises (too late) that he shouldn't have tried to bring them back.  
> One day, Anti gets really out of control and nearly kills Marvin. Marvin can't take this any more and leaves. Anti chases after him, seemingly hurting a lot of people along the way.  
> Marvin believes Dark can help him.


	67. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark and Marvin meet...

Marvin is in a bar, drinking a little too much for definitely not the first time this week. Since he ran away, his anxiety has acted as an early warning system for impending Anti presence and it’s really been ramping up the last few days. He hates this. This is a really nice community and when he leaves it will be torn to shreds and there’ll be even more blood on his hands. But Marvin knows that he’s a coward and there’s nothing he can do. So he drinks.

He’s  _maybe_  a little tipsy when the tall dark stranger comes over. It doesn’t even strike him as odd that the man’s skin is grey. They talk and chat and Marvin blushes as the man playfully flirts. It’s a peaceful moment until he feels that chill run up his spine and all the electronics, the tvs, the lights, the sound systems start to go haywire. He tells the stranger to get out before he rushes for the door, pulling the fire alarm as he goes.

The building evacuates and when they return to the very not on fire building, everything inside has been destroyed. Nothing has been spared. Glasses, shattered, tables flipped, upended, split in two. One chair has somehow gotten caught on a ceiling fan. Nobody has any explanation.

Marvin was careless but he won’t do that again. From then on, as soon as he can feel his brother starting to close in, Marvin cuts out and leaves, meaning he often has only a day or two in town. How is Anti so fast now? Marvin’s insomnia is back, and it brought its friends meaning that all Marvin has to do now is look at the people around and pray that none of them get hurt.

It’s about two towns over, when he finally feels he can take a break, Marvin’s sat instead in a coffee shop when tall, dark, and grey walks up to him and after a brief moment of drunk brain communicating with sober brain, Marvin goes bright red and panics! The grey stranger insists he sit down and promises he’s not with the police or the fire department. In fact he knows that Marvin probably saved a lot of lives that night.

“I notice you seem to have a bit of a problem.” he comments, pushing a bottle of water towards Marvin while subtly stealing the coffee and putting it on another table. “I wonder if you might allow me to help.”

He introduces himself as Dark, that there’s a building, a safe place for a lot of people where Marvin would be protected. Where this thing that seems to be chasing him will be kept at bay and a colorful array of characters (Dark’s exact words) will be ready to support him in whatever way he needs.

Marvin doesn’t realise how thirsty he really is until he’s downing the water, having lived off cheap pizza, alcohol, and coffee for the last…..however long it was pushing now. He thanks Dark, but insists that he can handle this, that he doesn’t want to involve anyone else and he can take care of himself.

Dark stops him before he’s out of the chair. It’s obvious these are all lies. Marvin is scruffy at best, looks exhausted, and like he hasn’t eaten anything close to a decent meal for a long while. So he makes another offer. One night. A good meal and a decent sleep in an actual bed. No running, no panic, no being alone. Just one night. And maybe that dance he promised back at the bar. Dark is smirking as he says the last one.

Marvin goes red. He vaguely recalls asking Dark for a dance but being told maybe another time. Oh lord. Dark gives a slight laugh but insists on everything else. Beyond that, it doesn’t take much to convince him, Marvin feeling at the end of his rope and reasoning with himself that hey, at least he gets a meal and some sleep (hopefully) out of it.

It’s a glorious night. A roast dinner, Marvin eating every morself he can scrape off the plate, a decent, non-shitty shower that has actual warm water, and a bed that’s pristine, as though it’s never been slept in. Apparently it’s Dark’s, though he rarely uses it and when Marvin finally lays down on it, it feels oddly comfortable and he’s already drifting as his head meets the pillow.

Every other bed feels cold. All those motels, they felt empty, hollow and lifeless but there’s something in these walls that speaks of the buzz of life beyond them. For the first time, in a long, long while, as Marvin drifts off, he feels safe.

One night turns into two, turns into a week, until Marvin is just basically living there. They never discuss it, Dark never asks him to leave, Marvin never expresses a wish to leave. He just feels safe here.

Dark suggests that Marvin stay away from the other residents, having noticed how nervous and jumpy the magician is, constantly apologising for every little noise, misstep, for taking Dark’s bed, for sleeping so long, for staying in the building so long. Every time, Dark just tells him to stop apologising.

He’s welcome here.


	68. A Sense of Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or the pirates of penzance.....no wait....wait....no....

Dark strides through the corridors in silence, Marvin following behind, his eyes glued to the floor. Dark is staring straight ahead, a vision of controlled fury as he leads Marvin to where they’re heading. He had seen Marvin was on the run, that something dangerous was following him and, all he wanted was to protect him. There’s just something about Marvin that almost makes him feel…. But now…

There’s a fresh, new room in the building, the door visible from down the corridor and when they reach it, Dark pushes it open, gesturing for Marvin to make his way in. Inside there’s a bed, some shelves, a TV in the corner. Obviously a bedroom, and Marvin turns to see Dark has not followed him.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“Wilford was right. I have a duty of care to these people. And I have become negligent.” When he found Marvin, the kid was so scared but spunky, resiliant but removed. Dark knew he needed help and he’d felt the urge to protect him, just as he wants to protect all the others. But in seeking to protect Marvin he opened the building up to attack. “ _I_  let you in and that put them at risk.”

This time it was a stranger, this Anti, but next time it could be Him. He could find them all just because Dark sought a connection, to protect a stranger. No. No he will not allow that.

“I didn’t mean for any of this. I swear.” Dark looks down as Marvin reaches to clasp at his arm. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’ve never wanted anyone to get hurt. I swear. I was scared and alone and I can’t do alone. Please.”

It looks like Marvin has realised what this is, what it is Dark is setting to stop between them, and his fingers hold tightly. Dark frowns as he removes the hold and pushes Marvin away and into the room.

“I need people around me that I can trust.”

Marvin looks as though he’s been shot at those words, his eyes going wide in shock before settling, the magician’s gaze sliding away to the floor as he bows his head.

“Your extension of protection stands but you are exempt from meetings and I hold you personally responsible for any and all of Anti’s actions. Your job is to keep him in check. Anyone else comes to harm and you are out. Am I understood?”

It’s less of a question and more of a directive. Filled with anger and finality, the color bleeding away as his aura spreads, filling the room with dread. Marvin’s green hair barely has an ounce of color in it as he nods his head.

As Dark leaves, he pulls the door closed behind him, taking a moment to breathe before straightening himself, adjusting his tie, holding up his head and striding away. To any one else, it looks like everything is fine.

He’s not.


	69. ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...

Phantom is in the clinic when he feels the pull, the sharp jerky pull that could never come from anyone else. There’s a beat in which he manages to take a breath before he’s dragged through some unseen doorway and slammed against the invisible floor in a vast darkness.

The air is heavy, weighted and from the second he lands he can feel it pressing down on him, harder than it should. Phantom is trapped on his knees as He strides forward. Phantom hears a dramatic sigh above him.

“I gave you one rule, Phantom. One simple rule.” A hand plonks firmly on Phantom’s head and the deal maker’s pulse sky rockets as his blood turns to ice. Power pulses out from where the fingertips grip him and though he shakes with strain, he’s frozen in place, unable to move, even if he wants to. “Stay away from THE PSYCHIC!!”

The hand throws him towards the floor and the floor meets Phantom’s face with a crunch. He stays on the ground, he’s not an idiot.

“I told him I don’t walk with you any more.” Phantom calls back.

“Well that’s great. I mean so long as you told him you have nothing to do with me any more. That should be fine.” There’s a strange echoing clack as He steps away before He turns and bellows. “He’s a fucking  _PSYCHIC_!! He created you! He’s going to know you’re lying!”

Shadows meld out of the darkness and Phantom is gripped by tendrils that lift him off the floor while they remove his cane, carrying it away, passing it to Him where He plucks it from their grip with a gentle, ‘thank you’. The darkness has a hold of each wrist and each ankle, holding Phantom aloft. Another tendril slowly begins to wrap around the boy’s throat as He talks, making sure the deal maker sees his own cane in His hands.

“You’ve raised Julien’s guard now. He’ll be expecting me. And I still can’t get anywhere near.” With a broad swing, He raises the cane so the globe is two inches from Phantom’s nose and burning a fiery eye glare at him through the glass. “If your foolish need to show off for your creator ends up costing me, I will take my pound of flesh from between your ears.”

“S-sorry!” Phantom manages to splutter before the hold around his throat cuts him off.

With a flick of His wrist, the shadows lower Phantom until he’s almost on the ground again, though they continue to hold him in place. “I know you are.” There’s a smarm to His voice as He raises a hand to gently pat at the deal maker’s cheek. “I know.”

Seconds drag on for eons as He taps the top of Phantom’s cane against His chin, and the boy is helpless as he watches, waits for Him to speak.

“Tell me, did you at least find what I’m looking for?”

The tendril around Phantom’s neck recedes enough to let him speak. Even so, the boy struggles and just about manages to nod. He’s found it but he can’t take it. That’s not how it works. That’s not how the rules work.

A finger on Phantom’s lips immediately silence these thoughts, his mind immediately cleared as the touch breezes through his mind and just brushes everything away. “It’s okay, I know. I know you can’t do anything.”

He is wearing a bright smile as the darkness around His favorite character recedes, forcing Phantom to take his own weight again. He stands close, reaching to hold the boy up. Hollowing him out can do that sometimes but He finds it so much easier than getting into pointless arguments.

Phantom stares hollowly as He presses the boy’s cane back into his hand, holding it there as his strength slowly returns to him. As He leans in, the deal maker’s eyes close as His word speak directly to his core.

“Watch over it,” He whispers, “make sure it stays safe. And stay…away…from the psychic.”

The boy’s chest swells with the power behind the instruction, and he responds as he always does.

“Yes, Mark.”


	70. Silver's Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and he's doing okay....?

Silver groans as he starts to come round. A worried voice sounds from beside him.

“Are you okay?”

He stretches his neck a little. He feels like he’s been running a marathon but otherwise he isn’t bleeding, he isn’t in any major pain. That’s gotta be a personal best.

“Sure.” he mumbles.

**-pomf-**

A large soft object smacks Silver in the face, and as he opens his eyes, he’s met with the vision of an angry Bim, wielding the pillow that just hit Silver in the face.

“You colossal idiot! You-you-” he raises the pillow to bring it down on Silver again. Silver is just able to raise his arms to protect himself, the pillow -pomf-ing against him with a bit more force before drawing back up. “What in the hell were you thinking!”

The pillow comes down again but this time Silver grabs at it and tears it from Bim’s hands before tossing it over the other side of the bed where Bim can’t get it. As he does so, Silver sees the bed beside him. In it the Jims are asleep, one under the sheets looking a little sickly, the other on top with an arm curled protectively around his brother.

When he turns back, Bim has got his hands on another pillow and has it raised above his head, ready to bring it down.

“I was thinking I’m stronger than Jim.” Silver’s throat is sore, his voice raspy. “That I should-” The pillow comes down again and cuts him off.

**-pomf-**

“Wrong! The  _right_  answer is you  _weren’t_ thinking!”

It takes a few tries but the second pillow follows after the first and Bim, now seemingly without any more ammo, slumps into a seat, crossing his arms and mumbling something about Silver being a dumbass. Silver closes his eyes and sighs.

“Is Jim okay?” he asks.

“He’s fine. Dr Iplier says he just needs rest.” The effects of possession is hardly something the doc is familiar with, but physically there’s very little that the doc can do. The most he can do is prescribe bedrest and minimal adventure-having and just watch him for any signs of things getting worse.

“And Jim?”

“Barely left his side.” Barely let him go, almost constantly holding onto his brother as though Jim might suddenly disappear if left alone even for a second. “How much do you remember?”

“Most of it.” There’s a few moments where things were a bit blurred. Where Silver wasn’t sure where he ended, and the thing inside his head began, but those are points he can easily gloss over if anyone asks.

They’re sat in silence for a few moments before Bim speaks up. “You should go and talk to Wilford.”

Silver chuckles, stopping when he sees the stern look on Bim’s face. Apparently, he isn’t joking. “I can’t do that.”

“You  _clearly_  want to talk to him. And after what happened,  _he_ ’s worried about  _you_. You go talk to him, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“He could be as bad as Dark.” Silver mutters.

Bim snorts and starts to laugh. Silver peeks open an eye and glances across to him. A moment or two passes before Bim is able to stop laughing enough that he can manage to speak. “You really haven’t met Wilford have you?”

“…is that not the conversation we’re having here?”

“Tobi.” Silver turns to look at Bim who’s smiling and looking a darn sight calmer than he was when the hero first woke up.

“Yeah?”

“You’re  _go_ ing to see Wilford.”


	71. Not An Easy Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim won't allow Marvin to lock himself away.

“Ding dong!”

Bim glances at Jim who has one arm wrapped around a laptop. “Why are you saying ‘ding dong’?”

“So Marvin knows we’re here.”

“Then why not say ‘knock knock’?”

Jim sighs, his shoulders sagging. “I would, but I can’t think of a good joke.”

Before the conversation can continue, the door opens, revealing Marvin who leans against the door.

“It’s okay.” Marvin mumbles. “I probably wouldn’t laugh anyway.” His hair is a mess, his clothes crumpled, and there’s a kind of tired resignation to his eyes that won’t even look at his two visitors.

Jim beams at him regardless and elbows Bim in the side. The TV show host holds out the cookies that Jim insisted he make fresh and bring with them.

“Would you like a cookie?”

Marvin looks between them and goes to close the door. He’s not up for visitors. In a flash, Jim steps forward, bracing himself as the door swings shut and jamming his foot between the door and the frame. He winces as it hits him with a bit of force; the assertive gesture takes the other two by surprise, though not as much as the firm look on Jim’s face. No words pass between them, but after a moment, Marvin opens the door.

Bim places the cookies on the side so he can take the laptop from Jim, who walks right up to Marvin and wraps his arms around him in a hug. Marvin’s eyes are wide and no doubt, to him this is incredibly awkward, but Jim just holds him and waits.

Thirty seconds tick by, Bim just watches, more than used to the odd behavior of the Jims, and Marvin finally slumps into the hold, returning the hug and burying his face against Jim’s shoulder. Bim raises an eyebrow. Okay maybe not entirely used to it.

As Jim moves Marvin to sit on the bed, Bim passes over a cookie that Jim places firmly in Marvin’s hand and tells him to eat. It’s a well known fact that Bim makes the best sugary treats of the building. Wilford makes a good go of it, but they tend to be oversweet.

As Marvin nibbles at the cookie, Jim begins to speak. He explains that Jim is doing well, talking, moving, everything. Soon he’ll be allowed out the clinic and everything will  be okay just like before. Bim chimes in that Silver’s doing fine as well since Jim seems more focused on his brother.

Jim points to the laptop and once Bim passes it over, he opens it up, before handing it over to Marvin. On the screen is the direct feed of the prison in the Google’s lab. It shows the prison is set up and nobody is around. Inside the plastic looking walls, Anti is huddled in the corner.

As he sees his brother, Marvin freezes and stares, not realising that Jim’s hand is on his shoulder in reassurance.

The Jims hacked Dark’s pitiful CCTV systems months ago, Jim explains, they can see anything on the system if they want to and both Jim and other Jim agree that this feed belongs to Marvin.

“Nobody in this building really has any siblings, and  _none_ of them are twins. They don’t get it. But I do.” Jim shuffles a bit so he can lean a little on Marvin’s shoulder as the magician just stares at the screen. Anti’s just sat there. He isn’t doing anything. “If that was Jim, I don’t know what I’d do. I don’t know how I’d cope.”

“It’s all my fault.” Marvin mutters. His eyes are beginning to tear up and he wipes them before they have a chance to fall.

Jim nods. “And I forgive you.”

Marvin turns to Jim in shock. “Y-you what?”

“I forgive you.”

“B-but I-!”

“I forgive you.”

Jim looks one hundred percent completely serious and Marvin is at a loss. What does Jim means he forgives him? For the pain? For the possession? For lying? For running? For-for-

Jim takes both Marvin’s hands in his and holds them tightly against his own chest as he glares at Marvin. “Bad things have happened, yeah. And they hurt my brother, sure. But I. Forgive. You. Marvin.”

When he’s sure Marvin has got the seemingly simple message stuck in his head, Jim reaches forward and pulls the magician into a side hug as they both watch Marvin’s brother on the screen.

“Besides we probably didn’t help with poking him with a ouija board.”

Bim’s eyes go wide. “You WHAT?!”

“It wasn’t on purpose! We thought we were talking to ghosts!”

Marvin chuckles as Bim and Jim get into a heated discussion, but the magician continues to watch the screen. Maybe they can make this work.


	72. Former Brainmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't keep secrets from someone you shared a brain with.

Anti watches curiously as the superhero he’d briefly shared a head with steps up to the prison walls. Other than the weird robot men, nobody’s come to visit and this one, Silver is it, is the last person he’s expecting.

“ **Do ̸I͟ ha͏v̢e͡ a ͝v͏is͟i̷tor?̧** ” his tone is mocking almost as he watches the man come to stand before the prison.

“Are you busy?” Silver stops, standing firm as he faces the prison, crossing his arms and glaring at the creature within. “It must be tiring,  _pretending_  to be trapped.”

Anti frowns and with barely a thought, he glitches from inside the walls to the other side, standing toe-to-toe with the hero. Almost instantly he regrets it. The hero’s about an inch or so taller than him and its hard to look intimidating when you have to look up to scowl at someone.

“ **W̡ha͠t̕ ҉do͟ y̴ou w̢an̨t?** ” Anti growls at him.

Silver shuffles in place, tightening his crossed arms hold on each other. “I want to fight. You and me. No holds barred.”

Anti huffs a laugh, waiting for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. If anything, the hero looks a hundred percent serious. Anti steps to walk in a circle around the hero, watching him intently as he does so.  “ **W̧oul͡d a̢lmo͠s͠t ̸th̢ink y̢o̶u d͢on͡'̶t w̢ąn͡t ͜to̢ ̵wi͘n̷.͟** ” he considers. “ **I w̛on͢der̢ wh̵y ͝y͝o̵u̶ w̡an͞t̴ ̨ _th̢a̢t_.** ” 

Except they both know he knows everything. You don’t get inside someone’s head without having unchallenged access to everything in there. Every thought every feeling, every last memory. Anti knows more about the hero than possibly any other being in this whole damn universe.

“ **M̨aybe͞ it’̕s̡ t̛h͞e ̕fea͢r of f͞a̧cing̵ the҉ pink͡ ̡w̡e͜ir͏do o̧r ̛the ac͠tual̷i̧s̴ed ̡self-l̷oat͏hi̵nģ.͡ I s͘up̸p̢o̶se i͘t̡ doe͡sn͜’t ̡he̵lp to̶ ha͡ve͝ m͢e̸ ̨and m̡y ͝b͝r̷o̢t̨he̸r͝ jųst ͘waltz̶ ̸in.̴ O͜r̕ maybe͏ i̢t’̵s t͘he th̵o̢ugh͜t o͏f͏ y͠ơur͏ ͡TV̸ ho҉st̛ b̴einģ j͏u̶s͠t̸ ̧l҉ike ̕eve̛r͟yone else͏ you’͘v͠e̢ ev͜er͠ lov̡e͢d͝.̷** ” As Anti speaks, he glitches around the room, sitting on a table, to standing by a workstation, sat on the floor. He’s just leaping from place to place around the room until finally he glitches back in front of the hero and tilts his head at him. “ **Be̴tter̡ ͜o̕ff wit͠h͞ou͏t yo͝ư.͘** ”

Silver just glares at him and says nothing. There’s no change to the anger on his face as he listens to every barb in the list of accusations. He looks no worse than when he came in and Anti sneers. Why isn’t it working?

When he’s certain that Anti is done being an ass, Silver steps forward and speaks quiet enough that the glitch has to lean in to hear. “I wonder why you pretend to trapped in this plastic box.” he mutters. “Maybe it’s because you’re afraid of what you’ve become, and deep down you think you deserve to be treated like a monster.”

Anti snarls and launches at the hero, who just kicks him back against the prison wall, which he hits with a loud thunk. By the time Anti recovers, the hero is gone. Every instinct screams at him to go after him, to tear the hero limb from limb, to show him just how afraid he isn’t. But as he crouches, ready to glitch, he has a vision of his brother, Marvin, stood where Anti is now, hands pressed to the wall begging him to let the hero go.

With a growl, Anti glitches back into the prison. Today, the hero is lucky.


	73. Chase and Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never trust a stranger who enters your home.

“Love you, Daddy.”

Chase’s lips tug up at the corners in spite of himself. “I love you too, Gracie.”

There’s a shuffle on the other end and a muffled voice tells Gracie to go and get her coat before the line goes dead. Stacey doesn’t talk to him unless she has to. Usually to ask for monetary help for the kids when they need new clothes. He loves that Stacey lets him be a part of their lives, but the almost surgical removal from hers… His therapist keeps telling him it’ll get better, that eventually it won’t hurt as much but Chase dreads that day just as much as he dreads the phone calls.

“Such a shame.” Chase turns, brandishing the phone like a sword at the stranger stood behind him. Obviously it’s not an intimidating sight, and the dark-haired, well-dressed stranger stands there, leaning on his cane just raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Who the fuck are you?” He’s brandishing the phone, dangerous or not, he knows he could easily whack the shit out this weirdo if push came to shove. Maybe not with the phone but he’s committed to wielding it now.

“I’m exactly what you need.” the stranger raises his cane and Chase finds himself drawn to look into the glass globe that sits on top. Chase goes to say something but the words die on his lips as he watches.

From deep within the glass, a small red light pulses, swells and fades, slowly growing with each throb. The longer he looks at it, Chase feels his breathing start to match it, swell, in, shrink, out… Everything around them kind of fades away. It’s still there, he can still see it but it just….doesn’t matter.

The phone falls to the floor and Phantom smirks as he watches Brody’s jaw go slack and his eyes turn glassy. the deal maker lowers his cane and snaps his fingers in front of Chase’s face but the unfortunate father doesn’t react. Good.

Phantom removes the hat from Chase’s head before tapping his cane on the floor. The apartment is gone, and now they stand on a rooftop, Chase’s toes right against the edge but still stood straight. A wind blows and Phantom uses a hand to hold the man in place. “Not yet.” he chuckles.

Once the wind eases, Phantom tosses Chase’s hat over the edge, watching it fall to the ground, landing not far from a collection of trees in the grass of the garden below. 

“Time to introduce you to your new family.”


	74. Okay Google

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's always known that somebody would find out by accident, but why did it have to be Bing?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from undocumented-terriaki on Tumblr.
> 
> What would happen if someone said "Okay Google" by accident?

Google pushes the door open to the lab, going over the latest instructions Dark’s given him. Nothing unusual, pretty standard fare. As he gets in the lab though, he catches sight of Bing watching the thing in the prison box despite the blue droid knowing for a fact that he told Bing to stay away.

“Bing!” he snaps.

The cyborg jumps, turning with a sheepish grin. “Hey Goog. There you are. I was looking for you.”

The droid frowns at the obvious lie and steps forward, wrapping his fingers tightly around Bing’s right arm and firmly pulling him towards the door. “I told you not to come in here.”

“I was just curious.” Bing doesn’t fight, moving with Goog’s movements but glancing back. “I mean what even is he?”

“Dangerous.” Possessed two people and if Google’s analysis of the CCTV footage is correct, he’s able to leave that cage at any minute, so the last thing the blue droid wants is to have the cyborg be anywhere nearby when it decides it’s bored of waiting around in the prison walls. “I’m not telling you again. Stay _out_ of here.” Just until he can figure out what to do with their dangerous visitor.

“I’m just curious!” Bing insists, but the counter argument withers under Google’s harsh gaze. The cyborg sighs. “Okay Google. I’ll stay away.”

Google freezes, locking in place, his system awaiting instruction. His hold around Bing’s arm tight enough to stop the cyborg in his tracks.

Bing laughs and tugs at the hold, telling Google he’s hilarious, thinking it’s all some great joke. But the hold doesn’t let up, and the cyborg realises Google’s eyes are strangely empty.

“Goog?” he gives a tug on the droid’s arm but it doesn’t move. Even with the new robotic parts upgrade, Bing’s nowhere near Google’s level of robotic strength and he can’t move his bro even an inch. “Goog this isn’t funny. What are you doing?”

“Primary objective is to answer all questions as quickly as possibly. Google IRL units are programmed to respond to all questions and instructions in response to the appropriate trigger words.” The question answered, the tension disappears, Google letting go and drawing back from Bing who’s just staring at Google in concern.

“Goog?” he says.

There’s an almighty crash as Bing’s back slams into the nearby wall, his cry cut off as Google’s hand wraps around his throat and squeezes, slowly lifting the cyborg until his toes are barely brushing against the floor. Google’s eyes are ablaze with a bright blue light, nothing but pure unmitigated anger on his face.

All Google feels is panic and anger, his system on high alert telling him to deal with the potential threat. Bing tries to pry the hand from around his definitely incredibly human, in-no-way-reinforced throat, but Google’s just too strong. The cyborg’s struggles are slowing, his eyes blinking closed and he looks about to pass out when Google’s logic kicks in and HOLY SHIT!

Bing crumples to the floor and Google strides back, his system stuttering and twitching as he takes in what he’s doing. What is he doing?! Google just backs away, several alerts coming up in his vision, warning him about the sudden flux in emotions, the potential overload of his processor, several prompts come up for an emergency reboot, but Google dismisses them all, eyes fixed on Bing as the cyborg looks up at him in utter terror.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

“I-I-I-I-I” Google’s body is twitching as he tries to stutter out an apology, but before Google can manage it, Bing is pushing himself to his feet and bursting his way out of the door.

“Bing!” Google calls after him, but the cyborg is gone.


	75. Help!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing prayed for a distraction.....he really shouldn't have done that.

“King!” Bing screams to the treetops. “King! Please be out here!”

After what happened with Google, he’s totally not crying. Or freaked, or afraid. Or in great need of reassurance. It’s perfectly normal for him to just want to see his best friend. His hands are shaking and he wants to scream when he doesn’t hear King respond.

“KING! PLEASE I-!” his words die on his lips as he notices a hat on the grass a short way off. As he moves over he sees it has a red skull on it that’s wearing blue glasses. He picks it up. “King…?”

King is mostly known for wearing his crown and he’s the only one who comes out here on the regular. Even so this really isn’t something he’d see anyone in the building wearing. I mean it’s a pretty cool hat. Bing would possibly wear it but he’s not really a hat person. He-

“BING!” a shout from above draws Bing’s eyes up, and he sees that King is there, higher up in his tree than usual and he looks kind of panicked “GET WILFORD!!”

He raises an eyebrow. “BRO I KNOW YOU’RE NOT STUCK! THESE ARE  _YOUR_  TREES!”

“THERE’S SOMEONE ON THE ROOF!” The monarch points to the building and sure enough, when Bing turns, he can see someone stood on the edge. That would explain where the hat came from. “I CAN’T REACH HIM AND HE ISN’T ANSWERING ME! YOU NEED TO GET WILFORD!”

“ON IT!” Hat clasped in his hand, Bing rushes for the door, just about passing through it before he runs straight into Google.

“Bing I’m sorry! I-!”

Oh geez. For a second there Bing forgot but there it is. Frick’s sake. He doesn’t want to think about this. He wants to run away, and luckily he’s got the perfect excuse, moving to run around Google to continue on. “Not now.” he says.

No affectionate nickname, no smile, every attempt to avoid him. Oh Bing, why didn’t you just stab Google, it would have hurt just as much. Bing gets two steps before he turns.

“Are any of the others with Wilford?”

Google frowns at the cyborg. What is he on about? “Wilford’s probably in his studio. Bing I-”

“Not now!” Bing’s already running, shaking his head as he runs. Focus on the guy on the roof now, deal with complex emotional crud later….if ever.


	76. Butterfingers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something not right about any of this.

A cloud of pink, glitter and a strong smell of candy and Wilford and Bim are on the roof. Sure enough, a short way off, toes on the edge of the roof is a complete stranger, grey shirt, colorful trainers, brown hair. You know he looks kind of like Marvin, though there’ll be time for that later.

“Hello?” Bim calls, carefully edging closer, worried about startling him in any way. The guy doesn’t respond. “Hello? Are you okay?”

Bim can feel something, an unfamiliar touch of magic that doesn’t belong to anyone in this building.  It’s not the sugar of Wilford, the hollow emptiness of Dark, the fresh feel of Marvin’s or that strange corrupted sensation Bim gets whenever he goes near Anti. It’s something different, and it’s not coming from this guy, but it’s all around him.

The stranger’s eyes are vacant, staring straight ahead, obviously seeing nothing. Evidence all points to some kind of mind control. Probably not very strong. They could probably wake the guy up just by giving him a shake. Bim glances over the edge of the roof. Yeah, that’s not happening.

Wilford frowns as he steps closer, though continues to keep his distance given how clumsy he can be. The pink man frowns, able to feel the strange taste of magic as well. “Dark isn’t going to like this.”

“We’ll worry about him later.” Bim shuffles adjusting so he has a firmer stance as he reaches across, placing a wide flat hand firmly against the stranger’s chest. No response. Bim takes a breath. “Please don’t panic.” he half mutters as he uses his magic to brush whatever it is away.

There a few silent moments in which the stranger slumps into Bim’s hold, but the silence is broken as the man blinks, and then screams. He’s aware, he’s awake, and apparently, he’s freaking the fuck out. As he tries to back away from the edge he stumbles, his feet slipping off the roof and before anything else can happen the man is falling. To hell with gentle! Bim grabs for the grey shirt, fingers barely catching, but he’s too late.

Wilford’s arms wrap around Bim’s chest and yanks him back, unwilling to allow his friend to follow after. They fall back against the roof as the shirt is torn from Bim’s fingers. They can only watch as the panicked stranger who’d appeared from nowhere on their roof begins to plummet to the ground.


	77. The Big Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Egos and a dead body

The clinic is heaving until the second Dark walks through the door. The air around him is tainted, his aura bleeding out further than usual. He barely has to say a word for everyone to know they need to leave. Even Dr Iplier makes himself scarce, leaving just Dark, Wilford and the Host in the room, with the body of the poor stranger who fell from their roof laid out on the bed.

The Host sits in a nearby chair, his fingers shaking. There’s little help he can be with a deceased body and Dark’s aura is not helping him to remain calm. Dark steps towards the end of the bed.

“This has to be to do with Mark.” he says. The dramatics alone speak highly of Mark’s hand having some sort of influence on it. The ass always did like to put on some kind of show.

“Except this guy looks nothing like us.” Wilford crosses his arms, watching the others with concern. Neither of them look too hot right now and he’d rather avoid looking at the bed. “That’s kind of Mark’s thing. This breaks form for him.”

Dark turns to the Host, a question on his lips that dies when the Host shakes his head. “All I can feel right now is  _you_.” his words are quiet and deliberate.

Mark’s power and Dark’s aura are difficult for the Host to tell the difference between at the best of times. With Dark’s anger going wild like this, it would make sense that the Host is terrified. Scared stiff. Taking a breath, the grey ego closes his eyes and tries to centre himself, to pull his aura back under control. Of course, the aura is hardly willing and compliant, only dampening slightly. Wilford places a reassuring hand firmly on Dark’s shoulder. A show of support for the leader.

After Dark has done all that he can, he opens his eyes. The Host is still visibly uncomfortable but straightens himself as he speaks. “I think Phantom may be involved.”

Both Dark and Wilford stare in shock before the grey ego scowls. This is not a better alternative. “I thought you destroyed Phantom.”

The Host merely gives a shrug. “Apparently not.”

Dark watches the Host intently. There’s something off about the Host’s words. Not a lie, but definitely something missing, the man has always been fairly obvious. As it dawns on him what he’s seeing, the ringing around Dark raises in pitch in time with his increasing anger.

“You  _already_   _knew_ he was here.” Dark steps forward, anger peeling off him and the Host raises from the chair to place it between them as he moves away. “You  _knew_!!”

Wilford tightens his grip on Dark’s shoulder and pulls to hold Dark back. “I’m sure Julien knew nothing.”

Dark’s eyes are pitch black, his arms shaking with barely restrained anger as he moves to step forward again. “You  _made_  Phantom for Him! If Phantom’s alive, if he’s around, it could already be too late!!” 

The very room around them begins to shake, the color draining, the pitch rising. Dark tries to tear himself free from Wilford who moves with him, reaching with his other hand to try and hold him back as the Host moves further away. Dark bellows as he strains against the hold around him. “DO HAVE  _ANY_ IDEA OF WHAT PHANTOM-!”

Wilford’s arm around Dark’s neck cuts the grey ego off, pulling tight despite the fingers that fly up to try and force him off. Dark’s aura is out of control, making the air around him black as night while it leeches color from the entire room. Even Wilford’s moustache is turning grey.

“Cool down time.” Wilford grunts, visibly straining against Dark before the two of them disappear. All they leave behind is the smell of candy that’s been left out and is starting to turn sickly. The Host breathes a sigh of relief. Dark will be able to explode in Wilford’s void without hurting anyone or anything. Least of all him.

There’s barely a few beats of silence before it’s interrupted by an intense gasp, a clatter, several choking coughs, and a groan from around the bed. The Host sees nothing, but he’s got sense enough to figure out what must have happened, though he doesn’t understand it.

As he sits back down in the chair, the Host straightens his jacket before he addresses the stranger who’s now on the floor. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr Brody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am heading to London today/tomorrow so I'm posting the next update early.


	78. Rise and Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rising from the dead isn't as simple as it looks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - vague mention to previously attempted suicide

Chase is curled up in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped tightly around the back of his head, while his forehead is held against his knees.

“What do you remember?” says the strange blind man who won’t go away.

“Falling.” he mutters. He remembers more but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think about it. Just like he doesn’t want to think about Chad dying doing that dumbass stunt. Like he doesn’t want to think about Stacey leaving with the kids. Like he doesn’t want to think about what he did when nobody was around and he found that gun.

“Anything else?”

Chase doesn’t answer, doing his best to curl up further. It happened again. Just like last time, except this time it’s not a miracle. It’s not a sign that someone up there wants to give him a second chance. He doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t know who the fuck this blind guy is. He doesn’t know why he isn’t still dead.

“Mr Brody.”

“Stop!” Chase looks up and screams at him, showing the tears on his cheeks. “Stop saying my name! Stop acting like you know me!!”

Where is he? What happened? Why was he on a roof? He has to get home. He has Gracie and Max this weekend. If he misses his visitation, Stacey will take him to court and have it cut again. Oh god. Chase curls up tighter.

“Where am I? Who are you?” he asks, voice muffled by his knees. “I want to go home.”

His questions and comments devolve into muttering. He’s not listening for an answer because he knows that this guy won’t have any. Why? Why does this strange shit keep happening to him?

“Maybe the Host isn’t the best person for this discussion.” the blind man says, He gets to his feet, and Chase hears the man walk out. Great. Now Chase is god knows where, with god knows who, who’s gone to do god knows what and Chase is barely holding himself together.

The door opens again but Chase doesn’t look up, or react, or move in any way. Maybe if he doesn’t see who’s kidnapped him, because clearly that’s what’s happened here, it’s so obvious now he thinks about it, they’ll let him go or something. It doesn’t quite track but hey he’s desperate. Let him grasp at straws.

A hand on his shoulder makes him jump, his head shooting up to see a well-built man with shaggy hair that’s been dyed bright red knelt in front of him. He looks concerned as he looks Chase over.

“Are you okay?” he asks. When Chase rolls his shoulder to get the hand away, the red-man pulls his hands up, putting them both on display to show he means no harm. “Host says you….came back to life?”

Chase kind of glares at him. Another stranger. What’s happening? Acting like he can help. Where is he? Like he knows. Like he understands. Chase’s hands fly up to the sides of his head and he screws his eyes shut. Why can’t he shut his brain up for two minutes.

“You’re not going to like this.” is all the warning Chase gets before arms are pulling him forward, wrapping around him and pulling him close to the stranger. He gives a yell, his eyes being pressed against the stranger’s shoulder, blocking out all the light and making him hyper-aware of the stranger’s breathing.

In….out…

In….out…

Without thinking, Chase’s own breathing eases, slowly matching the motion, his mind calming, his brain just going quiet. All there is, is this breathing. If he was to think on it, he might realise that the stranger is over doing it with the breathing, really emphasising, but Chase isn’t thinking about it. He’s just focused on matching the chest movements and basking in the darkness the shoulder offers.

Several minutes pass before he’s pulled away, his arms having raised to hold the man in front of him, and being unwilling to give up the comfortable position.

Chase looks up to the stranger, his eyes tired. The stranger gives him a slight smile.

“Better?”

Chase nods. “Yeah.”


	79. Take a Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need a second, and things aren't so bad.

“How did you know that would work?” Chase asks Tobi.

Tobi smirks. He’s moved away, sitting with his back against the side of the bed, his leg propped up as he leans against it. “I’ve never died, but I came  _really_ close once.” The smirk falls, replaced by a wistful smile. “As I was coming back, someone held me like that. It helped. Don’t know why.”

Chase knows that smile very well. It’s the same one he gets when he thinks about the good ol’ days with Stacey. “An ex?”

Tobi huffs a laugh, his smile widening a little in embarrassment. “Is it that obvious?”

Chase chuckles. He’s still in a strange place, with no idea where, or how he got here, and sure he died again, but in this moment, sat on the floor, just chilling with Tobi, it’s not all that bad.

“Are you okay?” Tobi asks, looking concerned. “I mean you were dead… For a while.” At least an hour, so far as Tobi’s aware.

Shuffling, Chase rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, muttering something about it not being the first time that it’s happened. After Chad died doing that stunt, Stacey walking out and taking the kids, everything slowly just started crushing in on him and…. He trails off and Tobi doesn’t push. They just sit there. Yeah this feels a little less not bad.

After a moment Tobi starts to talk about everyone else in the building, making sure to go into detail about everyone’s ‘quirks’ hoping to distract Chase. There’s magic users, robots, Wilford, a cyborg, a tree spirit, Ed, a sort-of psychic, the Jims; then there’s the nightmare child, and the tweedle twins who are magic and manic.

Tobi gives a shrug. “We’re all a bit weird here. Coming back from the dead is almost normal in comparison.”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“You mentioned everyone but you. Does that mean you’re the normal one?” Tobi doesn’t even realise he missed himself out. He shakes his head. “So what are you?”

“A trans-reality traveller with no powers who became a superhero.”

There’s a beat before Chase just bursts out laughing. It’s not that funny but it’s also hilarious. Tobi smirks and gets to his feet, offering a hand to Chase.

“You ready to face the others?” He asks as Chase stands. Tobi gestures towards the door. “Everybody’s dying to meet you.” He frowns and then laughs. “Okay that may be a bad choice of words.”

Chase bursts out in laughter again. It’s more nervous than anything but also, geez, Tobi. At the prospect of meeting the others he’s hesitant. There is so much he doesn’t know but he can hardly hide in here forever. Running a hand through his hair out of nervous habit, he panics! Where’s his hat? He looks around frantically before spotting it on the table. He grabs it a little desperately and firmly pulls it onto his head.

Tobi raises an eyebrow at him but Chase just shrugs. It’s his hat. It’s important. With this hat,  _everything_ seems possible. Together they head out the door.

The next room appears to be packed with almost the entire building’s residents.

Bim is sat in the chair nearest to the door, his hands fiddling. He seems incredibly nervous. At the far end of the room King and Bing are sat watching the Jims trying to teach one of their card games to Marvin, the three of them sat on the floor. The poor magician looks at a complete loss. Mare is naturally sat nearby, watching but trying to look like he doesn’t care. Ed sits in the corner, carefully watching everybody while tapping away at his phone. Probably trying to sell something else. The Host is sat a reasonable distance away, perking up as he hears the door to the room open, giving a slight smile. Both Green and Dr Iplier are scurrying around, trying to organise things. Google and the others are noticeably absent.

As the two of them enter, everyone stops what they’re doing and looks up. It’s almost like something out of a horror movie and Chase grimaces. Bim jumps to his feet, looking concerned, stopping when Tobi holds up a hand to get him to stay back.

“Everybody. This is Chase.” The hero speaks clearly as he addresses the room and gestures to Chase. He smirks. “The immortal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse my delays this week. Inspiration has struck again, this time for a spin off (for now) based on FNAF the musical and that's consumed my time the last day or so.


	80. Lift Your Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jims makes a fair point though.

It doesn’t take much before Mare checks out of that weird waiting room. Not that anybody notices….or cares. Currently he’s sat in the TV room, plonked on the floor beside the TV. Nobody is likely to find him here.

The near-constant dull ache in his chest spikes a little as he thinks of where Mad might be now. If the maniac was capable of remorse, Mare might go so far as to wonder if Mad misses him. Except he knows the jackass doesn’t. Maybe that’s why he liked hanging out with that weirdo so much. Everything around here is all gushy mushy heart-on-your-sleeve and it’s honestly kind of sickening. With Mad it’s all about the fun and the plan and-

WHAM!

The door to the TV room is kicked open and Mare groans. Only two idiots kick doors open around here. Sure enough, the Jims enter. One has his arms hooked tightly around his brother’s legs, while the other has his arms tightly wrapped around his brother’s neck, making for one secure looking piggy back. The one on the other’s back, sees Mare first.

“Found him!” he reaches with one arm and points, almost losing his grip before the base Jim lets him drop to the ground.

“Go away!” Mare scowls. Just what he wants, two happy peppy upbeat tweedles bothering him when he just wants to not exist for an hour or two.

They ignore him and move closer; one stays standing while the other one chooses to sit on the floor less than two feet away. Mare narrows his eyes at them. Of all the residents in the building, their energy is the one he hates the most. They’re like giant five year olds and if Mare never meets another one of those in his afterlife, it’ll be too soon.

The Jim that stands is looking to the one who’s sat. Sitting Jim is biting nervously at his lip. Mare’s eyes narrow. He knows what they’re going to say before either of them speaks a word.

“Let me guess. You’re having nightmares.”

“That’s kind of your area right?” The standing Jim folds his arms as he looks at the spirit.

The ache in Mare’s chest spikes again, before it’s burned away by anger at the unspoken accusation. “I’ve not even been  _near_ you.” he snaps, getting to his feet.

The Jims share a look before turning back. “We know it’s not you.”

It takes a few moments before what they’ve said actually registers with Mare and he stops, his eyes narrowing at them. “Then why are you here?”

The standing Jim has moved so his hand is resting on his brother’s head, gently ruffling his hair in a small gesture of reassurance to the increasingly distraught-looking Jim.  “We were thinking you could help.”

Mare dismisses them as he strides around them. “That’s not how it works. I make them, I don’t break them.”

“Have you ever tried?” sitting Jim asks.

“Why would I?” Mare storms to the door. He’s done with this.

Before he reaches it, standing Jim calls after him. “We know someone who looks like you.”

That stops the spirit in his tracks. Looks like him? Like how all these idiots seem to look like each other? That’s impossible surely? He turns, his form flickering. “You’re lying.”

Standing Jim’s eyes are blazing as the two of them glare at each other. Honestly, coming from a Jim it’s a little terrifying.

“We’ll introduce you to him.” Jim says firmly. “If you  _try_  to help us.”

Moments pass as Mare considers it, watching them intently before he finally says, “….Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've spent the weekend at a wedding. It may take me a little while to get back into the swing of things. I thank you for your patience with this.
> 
> Also Yanderiplier and Robo!Nate FNAF the musical inspired story coming soon. Keep an eye out. (Technically a spin-off)


	81. Communication is Key....and hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King will always fight in Bing's corner, even if he has to argue with Bing to do so

King blocks the doorway and when Bing tries to push past him again, the dryad just turns the cyborg around and pushes him towards Google’s back. The blue droid is sat at his workstation, Red and Oliver having just left when they saw Bing come in.

He doesn’t want to be here. It’s confusing and scary and- King just points with more force.

“Goog?” Bing’s voice cracks a little as he calls out.. The blue droid doesn’t react. “My uh….my shoulder hurts.”

“The clinic is still open.”

Bing bites at his lip. He can hear the lack of emotional input in Google’s voice. The weird flat tone he gets when he’s shutting himself off from everything around him. “It’s uh, it’s my right shoulder.”

The blue droid pauses, turns slightly but not enough to actually glance over his shoulder. “Oliver and Red just left. They can sort it.”

Bing turns but King’s still in the doorway and he points angrily at Google again, mouthing for Bing to ‘Talk to him or so help me I’m taking your skateboard’. With a silent groan and an angry but silent ‘c’mon’, Bing turns back around, hiccuping as he steps forward a few more steps.

“Google, you strangled me.” Bing’s heart is beating like crazy in his chest and he sees nothing change in what Google’s doing. “Even in my nightmare, you never did that.” Google turns in his seat, his lips a firm line as he looks at Bing who hiccups again.

Google glances over Bing’s shoulders to King, giving him a pointed look that says, leave, as firmly as can be done without using actual words. Satisfied that Bing isn’t about to run off, King makes himself scarce and Google stands, striding over to Bing.

Panic floods Bing’s system and he stumbles back a few steps until Google stops, and sighs. As the droid’s shoulders drop, the emotionless facade falls away, Goog’s face falling, his arms drawing close to his body out of nerves, and the blue droid’s eyes slipping to the side.

Bing hiccups and Google looks at him again, his eyes look tired, and so dang sad. This time as he approaches, Google states firmly that he’s not going to hurt Bing. He places a hand flat on Bing’s chest and waits. After a few seconds, Bing hiccups again and Google asks if Bing remembers his breathing exercises.

The cyborg nods. It’s been a while since he’s had to use them, something he’s only just realising now, but some of his fonder memories are his brothers talking him through his breathing when his crappy chest, weak lung and adrenaline filled adventures got overworked and he struggled to breathe properly.

The seconds tick by as Google counts out Bing’s breathing, and soon enough, the hiccups stop. As soon as he’s satisfied, Google pulls back, making sure he puts a good bit of distance between them. They stand in silence for minutes before Google finally speaks.

“I was designed to serve a purpose.” he begins. “To answer questions, to perform menial tasks. I am a tool for other people to use.” Bing opens his mouth but Google raises his hand to silence him. “That’s what I was  _made_  for. That’s how I’m  _supposed_  to function. So I’m programmed to respond to anything preceeded by the phrase ‘Okay Google’. Whether I want to or not.”

“So when I said…?”

“I am…..” Google nods, his fingers curlling slightly as he processes what he’s feeling. “…. _terrified_. It is a horrendous weakness. When it activated, my system went into overdrive and I panicked.” His fingers curl into fists and meets Bing’s concerned eyes with a firm glare. “I  _never_  wanted to hurt you.” 

Bing’s fear turns to resolution and determination and he steps forward. “That’s not fair! That sucks! Do the others-?”

“Nobody but Dark and the Host.”

A shiver runs down Bing’s back. The idea of either of them being able to take control of his brother is wrong. It’s stupid and makes him sick. Reaching forward, Bing takes a hold of Google’s arm.

“I won’t let them use it against you.” Google raises an eyebrow at the cyborg. Despite his upgrade, Bing is still pretty weak and could easily get his ass handed to him by almost anyone who lives in the building. Bing shakes his head at the look. “I mean it! If they try, I’ll stop them! And if I can’t stop them, I’ll make them pay! I swear!”

Google smirks, raising a hand to ruffle Bing’s hair. “Sure thing, big shot.”

The cyborg smiles and tries to pull away from the hair ruffle, his right shoulder twinging a bit. Bing gives a sheepish grin. “ _Would_ you mind looking at my shoulder though? I was only half-lying about that.”


	82. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something sinister is going on here.

“So uh,” Chase watches the way the air turns red and seems to bend around his hand as he holds it up, just about in line with the boundary of the property, “this wouldn’t be either of you would it?”

He raises his other hand and sure enough, the second he goes to move his hand across the threshold, something unseen pushes back against him. Something really doesn’t want him to leave.

Across the threshold, facing him and watching with increasing confusion are Bim and Silver, neither of them able to offer anything in the way of an explanation.

“Some kind of magical shield?” Silver guesses as Bim steps closer to get a better look,

“I can’t feel anything.” There’s no residual magic or taste on the air anywhere yet there it visibly is around Chase’s fingers. “Maybe I could teleport you out?” Bim offers, shooing Chase back from the invisible barrier.

The dad backs up without hesitation, watching with bated breath as Bim raises a hand, the air around it growing purple. The air around Chase slowly begins to hum, almost like it’s vibrating, picking up speed until it suddenly cuts out. Bim’s collapsed, Silver just barely having caught him. If he didn’t already know that the shield would hold him back, Chase would run to him too.

“I’m gonna guess that’s not good.”

“No kidding.” Silver agrees, carefully guiding Bim back across the boundary. The show host is leaning pretty heavy on him and that doesn’t strike Chase as good, but when he asks, Bim insists he’s fine with a wavering smile.

Less than ten seconds, and no spoken words, just a glance, Chase and Silver have agreed they need to take Bim to the clinic, just in case. The three of them slowly make their way through the garden and back to the building, Chase throwing glances over his shoulder at the entryway.

“We’ll figure something out Chase.” Silver assures him, though Chase knows that it probably won’t be soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a short one. Big stonking heap of writer's block that I'm hopefully blasting through today.


	83. Sometimes you should shut up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not going to end well

“How’s your boyfriend?”

Anti is sat in his plastic room, his back against the wall closest to Marvin. His brother has come to visit him multiple times since his ‘incarceration’ and honestly he’s kind of loving the family time. It’s very boring in here. Nobody else comes near, no one talks to him. That cyborg peeked in once but got dragged away. That was a fun two minutes.

Marvin has his back to the same wall, looking out over the Googles’ computer lab. His arms are holding his knees close to his chest. At Anti’s question he curls a little tighter into himself and turns away.

“Don’t.”

“Well that’s what he is.” Anti teases. It’s obvious to people in orbit that they dig each other.

“ _Don’t_.” Marvin’s voice is firm and Anti turns. He sees how his brother is sat, the fact that he’s turned away. Anti may not be all that great at interactions any more but he’s not blind.

Anti tenses. “What happened?”

Marvin stays silent and anger wells within the glitch. Secrets. Always with the secrets. Lies and secrets and hiding and ignoring and he’s sick of it. Marvin is  _supposed_  to be  _his_ brother. They’re supposed to share problems and fix them but if Marvin is going to be a secretive little shit than Anti can figure things out for himself.

Anti’s eyes rise to the ceiling above him and he scowls. “I’ll ask Captain Emo then.”

Panic rises in Marvin’s chest and he turns. “Anti wait!” He just about manages to catch the air splitting around Anti as he glitches out the room. “Shit!”


	84. Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti vs Dark....

Dark has a migraine coming on, rubbing his fingers into the side of his temples to try and will it down. After exploding in anger in Wilford’s void, he’s retired to his office hoping for some peace and quiet to process the exact level of shit that this whole building could be in. Apparently the universe has other ideas.

There’s a crackle and Dark opens his eyes to see that glitch stood on the other side of his desk. He scowls, anger rising as he sees possibly the last person he wants to see. He glares at Anti. “How the  _hell_ did you get out your cage?”

Within a blink, Anti rushes forward and vaults the demon’s desk. Dark barely has time to brace himself before the two of them collide.

It’s so easy to lose himself in the fight. So easy to grab a hold of the glitch and throw him at the wall. To surrender control to his aura, let it just tear into this thing before him. This insignificant speck. This glitch.

The room around them turns black, Dark’s aura reaching out and pouring into each corner. It’s been so long. So long since it could last take control. Take over. So many times it wants to  _just end it_  but Dark pulls it back. To lash out, to cause pain, to attack, it feels good, it feels right.

Both Dark and Anti’s eyes are pitch black as Anti gets to his feet again, glitching from side to side, giggling, taunting him before glitching behind him, drawing a knife from nowhere. Before he can use it, Dark turns and grabs the glitch by its throat.

Anti grabs for the hand, trying to pry it away, but he has no chance against Dark’s sheer strength as he raises the glitch up, lifting his very feet from the ground. “ ** _I should have just killed you when I found you._** ”

Dark turns and tosses the glitch at the far wall, and with a flick of his arm, all the furniture, the desk, the bookshelves, the lamps, everything that isn’t tied down flies to the wall, colliding with a clatter and creating a bare path for Dark to step forward.

The air around him distorts, blue and red crackling, striking the walls as he raises a hand. It gathers, slowly amassing around his hand as he steps up to the glitch, cowering on the floor.

“ ** _I won’t make the same mistake again._** ”

As he throws it, the door bursts open and  Marvin rushes in screaming. “STOP!” Getting between them, he throws up a blue shield, desperate to save his brother from the attack. It barely stands a chance against Dark’s aura, crumpling quicker than a house of cards in a hurricane.

“ **M͕͍̩͖̬͎͘A͙̭͉R̗̱̟̳ͅVI̘̤̼̮̯̗̮N̫͍ͅ!҉̫̱͙̬̗̼!̜̝̱̻͉** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....No one wins.


	85. Panic! in the clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When panic sets in, base instincts take over.

Anti appears in the clinic, eyes black, mind a bundle of chaos. A mess of thoughts rush around his head as he holds his brother’s limp form against himself. Marvin is hurt. He needs help. But these people can’t be trusted. None of them. But Anti can’t help him. But no one else can be trusted.

As the doctor steps forward, Anti steps back and screams at him to get away. No! Marvin needs help! But Anti doesn’t trust anyone in this building. But he needs help. Anti clings tighter to Marvin. Marvin would know what to do. Wake up Marvin. Tell Anti what to do. Tell him how to fix this.

Marvin doesn’t respond.

The doctor starts talking but Anti’s only really making out every other word. “I………see. ……hurt………save……….trust……”

Anti clings tighter and draws away. No. No trust. That’s the problem. He trusted Dark, look what Dark did. 

Fingers brush his back, just below his neck and a clear voice speaks in his mind.

_We can help him. You need to let us help him._

Scared. So scared. He’s hurt.

_He needs help._

Yes. Help. Marvin, please don’t leave me.

_Stay calm._

Calm.

_Trust us._

No. I can’t trust you.

_If you don’t, we can’t help._

As Anti goes to scream again in panic and pain and fear, a wave of forced calm washes over him and pushes tension away, loosening Anti’s hold on his brother, the doctor almost right in front of him ready to take his brother from his arms.

_Calm_

Another pulse of calm, followed by another, and another just washes through him until Marvin is barely in his grasp anymore, and then he’s not there at all

“Marvin….” his voice is weak, his body weakening, he realises that there’s an arm around his stomach holding him up. “No…”

_Safe. Slow. Calm._

The next pulse pushes down his panic more, replacing it with comfort, with a feeling of safety. Anti hasn’t felt these in a long time and he almost collapses into the hold around him.

“Marvin?”

_Safe._

The glitch all but passes out and the Host struggles, but manages to move him to rest on a nearby bed. The doctor is sending for the Googles. Marvin is in a bad way and in desperate need of help.

Inside Anti’s mind, the Host has seen exactly what happened and he grabs Dr Iplier’s arm. “Someone needs to find Dark.”


	86. Endless Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everyone can stand the Dark

The clinic doesn’t close often, but when it does, it’s always for a perfectly good reason, like that time Wilford accidentally blasted a hole into the wall. Bim keeps insisting that he’s okay so the three of them make their way to the TV room instead. There Bim can rest, the three of them can chat, and the kitchen isn’t too far away so they can grab some lunch in a bit.

They’re there for maybe twenty minutes when Wilford turns up. The usually bright bubbly man is somber. He just looks to Silver, holding his gaze firmly, an unseen question passing between them. Silver’s smile falters. Something about this feels like it’s not going to end well. Bim can guess what’s going on and takes a hold of Silver’s arm, telling him he doesn’t have to do this. Chase is clueless, looking between all of them but figuring he’ll learn more by staying silent.

Silver stands and reaches to take Wilford’s outstretched hand, and in a bright whirl and flash of pink, they’re in a room of complete black. There are random pieces of furniture scattered around, not many but enough to show that this probably is usually Dark’s office. There are no walls here though, the physics of the space clearly having crumpled under the blackness.

There is very little color in here, Wilford’s bright clothing heavily muted, and Silver looks to his hands, seeing them slowly fading into the grey he hasn’t seen in a long time. Every second drains more color and honestly the hero feels like he shouldn’t have come in here.

Wilford points across the blackness to where a barely perceptible grey man in a grey suit stands. Dark. His back is turned to them, standing perfectly still. Of course. Of course it’s Dark. Of course he’s here because Dark’s lost control. Silver clenches his fist bringing it against him, stepping forward, With each step he can almost feel the aura around them draining more color from him. He can feel himself becoming the grey thing he’s tried to run from for so long.

Silver stops a short way off, close enough that there’s no way Dark doesn’t know he’s there, far enough away that he can still keep his distance.

Two grey men; one distorted, one stable; one in a suit, the other in a t-shirt and pants; both of them splitting down the middle. They stand in this endless black void, the muted pink man stood a short way off.

Sometimes the only person who can reach you, is yourself.


	87. Wake Up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver gives Dark some hard home-truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience with me guys, I managed to injure myself during a charity inflatable 5K run thing and I had to take a few days break to recover and make sure I had no underlying issues that might get aggravated. Like I'm talking spinal and neck here. Hopefully getting back into the swing of things again.

Silver folds his arms and lets out a slow sigh as he closes his eyes and calls across the space. “What happened?”

Dark doesn’t move. He’s almost eerily still as he stands, his back still to the hero. As he speaks his voice is strangely firm and calm. “I hurt Marvin.”

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Silver’s words aren’t quiet, not afraid of being heard. “Hurting the people you _claim_ to care about.”

Dark turns. The demon’s eyes are black and there’s a barely perceptible shift from lost to angered. Around them, Silver feels the aura shift in response to the ‘insult’. “Oh I’m sorry were you expecting sympathy?”

Silver smirks, giving a half-shrug as he watches the other’s shock. “You want me to lie and tell you how ‘great’ you are? How you ‘look after us’? How you’re our ‘saving grace’?” Within a blink, the levity is gone and the hero is scowling at Dark. “You talk about protection. About it being for our own good but it’s not about us. It’s about _you_.  _You_ used Bing as bait and he wound up dismantled. _You_ lied to King about his trees. He could have _died_. Jim got possessed. _I_ got possessed. Bim saw someone fall from the roof and _die_. And _you_? You’ve done nothing!”

Around them, the blackness pulses with anger, the blue and red around Dark grows and crackles and lashes out. The demon is angered and is probably trying to scare him but Silver just stands and watches. When it stops, Dark is doubled over, breathing heavy as he looks up, glaring.

“Something’s coming Dark.” Silver continues. “We can all feel it and we’re all terrified. The border of this building that you _promised_ would protect us keeps getting breached. Madpat and Mare. Anti. Chase! We came here because you promised safety and right now, I’d be surprised if anyone feels safe.”

As Silver talks, Dark slowly shifts, straightening up, adjusting his tie, seemingly regaining composure until he looks as though he’s back in control. All that betrays them in the undying blackness around them that Silver feels squirm and writhe in the air as Dark tries to pull it under control. 

“You keep asking us to trust you but you’re giving us more and more reasons to turn our back. Talking about secrets and danger and threats. Saying one thing and then doing another.”

“ **I have everything under control.** ” His voice is firm but the blackness around them is no more reigned in as Dark pulls on his cuffs.

“No. You don’t. You’re breaking. I can see it. Refusing to share with us, taking it all onto yourself is pushing you to breaking point.”

“ **Wilford-** ”

“Wilford’s understanding of _anything_ is limited at best. He tries.” Silver turns to glance back at the muted man. “He would probably die trying to help you but that’s our problem.” The sudden change to include himself grabs Dark’s attention, looking up in shock as Silver turns back. “We’re too proud and selfish to ask for help. We lie to ourselves, but you and I both know that we’d gladly fail alone if it meant we didn’t need to admit that we need help.”

He can stand here and throw all the accusations he wants but he knows he’s just as guilty of some of these things as Dark. Maybe not today but his hands are by no means clean. Silver looks down to his grey hands and turns them over in front of him, thinking on the things that he did. On what he’d had to do to make them right.

“I won’t pretend that doing the right thing is easy. Or natural. Or that it doesn’t change everything.” Silent tears slowly roll down his cheeks but he ignores them. It’s not the first time since he came here. It won’t be the last. “I won’t pretend that I don’t regret doing it. But we have to accept it.” His fingers clench into fists as he looks up. The anger seemingly gone, replaced with resignation and pain. “In the end, Dark, _we_ don’t matter.”

Dark watches the hero, his twisted reflection made real, blinking, his eyes returning to normal as the darkness begins to thin around them, his aura calming. It’s not compliant but it’s coming back under control. Silver watches all of this patiently, glancing down to see the color slowly returning to his arms. When he feels he properly has their leader’s full attention, he speaks again.

“You need to tell us what’s coming. We need to be prepared otherwise whenever whatever it is gets here, all that’s going to happen, is everyone’s going to die.”

Dark tugs at his cuffs and nods. Not completely in control but on his way. “ **You can leave.** ” is all he says. The hero turns and goes back to Wilford. He doesn’t want to stay here any longer than he has to. He’s done his part. Let the _real_ Dark do the rest.


	88. Fighting the Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get to the bottom of troublesome nightmares

Mare drops his hands as Jim starts crying again, the other Jim immediately wraps his arms around his brother and glares angrily at the spirit who glares right back.

“You’re doing something wrong.” the other Jim says firmly.

Mare clenches his fist and fights the urge to just attack them. “I’m doing my best here.” He grits through his teeth. “This isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”.

The last twenty minutes, he’s gone into Jim’s mind and tried to break apart these nightmares that are floating around in there but they’re strong and Mare isn’t usually on this side of them. Hell he probably can’t even do it. This is just a waste of time!

“Your name is practically nightmare!” the other Jim snaps. “This is _exactly_ your thing.”

“If you want my help, I suggest you don’t piss me off.”

“Then you better start being helpful!"

Mare snaps, grabbing the other Jim’s elbow, and dragging him into the first nightmare he finds in the Jim’s head. Except…. Mare looks around. Nothing’s changed. They’re both still in the room, Jim’s still cradling his brother and they both look afraid. After a moment, the spirit lets him go, drawing back and frowning.

“…..What’s _your_ nightmare?”

Other Jim wraps his arms tighter around his brother who’s finally stopped crying and is holding him back just as tight. He avoids looking at Mare as he speaks. “Our whole lives, we’ve been through everything together. From when we were little kids. We’ve always been able to help each other because we’ve been through the same things. But…” he trails off but Mare can fill in the rest. Only one of them went through the possession.

And just like that it all clicks. The nightmare he keeps seeing in Jim’s head suddenly makes so much more sense and it’s kind of obvious why he can’t do anything. Reaching forward, he grabs the nightmare-having Jim with one hand, and takes the elbow of the other Jim with the other, drawing them both down.

The three of them are stood in an empty void, the mindspace that has been hosting Jim’s nightmare. Now, it’s hollow and empty though it stretches for miles and both the Jims seem afraid, immediately fighting the urge to panic. Mare tightens his grip in an attempt to ground them.

“I thought your nightmare was to do with you being possessed.” he explains, looking towards Jim, “That it was.about being isolated from the world.” with a slight struggle he draws the Jims closer until they’re stood almost toe-to-toe. “But it’s about being separated from your brother.”

The Jims look at each other and their eyes go wide, as though they’re only just noticing that the other is there. “You’re not having nightmares. You’re having delayed separation anxiety.” The Jims’ nightmare isn’t about being attacked, or almost dying, or guilt over not protecting each other. It’s getting torn apart and even now they’re reunited, the fear that it’s going to happen again. 

Jim turns to Mare, nervous and confused. “So you can’t help?”

Mare smirks. “I never said that.”


	89. Interesting....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this is curious...

The premise is simple. One door, two Jims. Whoever opens the door loses, and for every minute that passes, the other Jim gets a point. It’s supposed to fun. Like a game. Like he used to…. anyway. The Jims strike him as the kind to like games but it’s not really working.

They’ve been at this for three hours and neither Jim has lasted more than five minutes. Then they cling to each other for ages and Mare is left feeling awkward and stupid because this probably isn’t helping them. In fact he’s noticing the Jims starting to glare at him each time the spirit closes the door between them.

He falls back, drawing away, watching them continue to do it for another twenty minutes. Eventually he stops watching. He’s not helping. He’s failing. They don’t want him here. He doesn’t really want to be here anymore. Not just in this room, but in this building. A heavy weight settles on his shoulders as he wraps his arms around his knees. It takes him ten minutes to even realise the Jims left.

God damn it, he misses Mad. With the madman you knew where you stood but with these goody-goodies you get emotional whiplash at the drop of a hat. Mare lets his hair fall into his eyes and just blocks out the room around him. Except Mad hates him. Mad doesn’t want him anywhere near, and neither do any of the supposed clear-conscienced people in this building.

Suddenly, the hairs on Natemare’s arms all stand on end and he looks up to see a young man stride out of the shadows, his fingers clutching a cane with a globe on the top end of it. His dark hair is short, well-kept and the sleeves of his blood-red shirt are rolled back.

The air between them seems to be vibrating, sending shivers down Mare’s spine as the stranger firmly puts the base of the cane immediately in front of himself, folding his hands over the globe and leaning forward, peering curiously at the spirit.

“Jim’s right.” the stranger muses. “This _is_ interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everybody who responded to the poll on the last update. It was very helpful and I have some good ideas and plans to work towards now.  
> Thanks to all of you very very patient regular readers and I hope you can forgive my struggles with writing the last week or so. Hopefully semi-normal service shall resume.


	90. Universe Alignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To find out you're not alone, in a world filled with other people....

It’s a farce, the confidence that he exudes as he peers down at the spirit the Jims told him he needs to meet. The kid is clearly, well, a kid. Younger, less put together, but Phantom has seen enough of his own face to recognise it on someone else. Somehow, despite the Jims, despite all those people in this building having the same face, seeing it for himself…

The kid looks scared and Phantom wonders if he can feel it too. That spark on the air, like something is moving between them. Careful not to make it obvious, he drums his fingers against the globe, trying to run the sensation through his fingers. He barely brushes it, sparks flitting throughout him and he gasps, straightening.

“You feel that?” the spirit asks, pushing himself to his feet.

Yeah he feels that. Of course he feels that. What is that? What’s going on? Lifting his cane, Phantom raises it in one hand to the side, giving a slight flourish, the cane turning to smoke in his fingers before disappearing.

“Phantom.” he says.

“Natemare.” the spirit responds.

Phantom feels the air shift around his arm as he reaches forward. Natemare doing the same, the invisible electricity between them amping up the closer their arms get.

The deal maker watches their hands intently, a shiver running down his spine as they reach to grasp at each other’s forearms. Neither of them are really thinking about it, following the instinct that is making them reach for each other. It’s a draw, pulling him towards the spirit.

Natemare hesitates and Phantom stops, millimeters between their arms as he looks up. “What is it?”

The spirit shakes his head. “I don’t think we should do this.”

Phantom frowns. He can feel the tug telling him to take his doppelganger’s arm, but now that he’s not just following it, now that he’s paused, he can feel the niggle just at the base of his neck. They _shouldn’t_ take each other’s hand. Not yet.

He slowly draws back, his fingers gently curling into a light fist as he summons his cane back, holding it close and tapping the globe as he assesses the spirit, thoughtful for a moment before he smirks.

“This has been enlightening.” He nods his head slightly, a respectful gesture towards his double.  “I’ll be seeing you Natemare.”

Raising his free hand, Phantom snaps his fingers, and just like that, he’s gone.

 


	91. The Devil in the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark calls a meeting. Everyone is expected to attend.

Every seat is full, the Jims sharing the Host’s empty seat, Chase is stood between Silver and Bim, Marvin is stood next to the Jims, Anti isn’t too far from his brother, and Natemare is tucked away in the corner. Even the other Googles are here, gathered behind Google’s chair, no doubt conversing across their private channel.

The leader stands, hoisting himself to his feet. There was once a time where that alone would be enough to silence everyone so he could address them but it does nothing. A few of them glance at him, but the only ones to fall silent are the Jims.

It’s the loud slam of Wilford’s fist against the table that silences the room. All of them looking to the head of the table. Wilford is at Dark’s right hand, as he always is, a vacant stare on his face as he knows what’s coming. If there’s any reason Dark would avoid this conversation it would be for Wilford’s sake, but Silver’s right. They need to know.

“It has probably not escaped your various attentions that we share some common features.” his gaze passes over those of them that look the same. All but four of them. “This is not an accident.”

Dark takes a deep breath. “There is a man who has shown an interest in you all. That’s how we found you.” His eyes drift along the table, lingering for a moment on Bing. “Some of you we were late to help. So we did what we could. We brought you here because we _thought_ we could keep you safe.” King of the Squirrels scoffs and Google pointedly pushes his glasses up his nose. Neither of them say a word, though neither of them need to. “We were wrong,”

Everyone turns as one of the Jims raises his hand, something that nobody else would ever do, but nobody questions the fact that Jim does it. As he speaks, Jim’s hand slowly comes down again. “Why does he want to hurt us?”

”A long time ago, the three of us were friends.” Dark gently indicates Wilford as well. They were all very different back then. “Someone screwed up and we lost a lot. Mark believes our face is cursed, and seeks to punish those who share it.” Silence draws out across the room as everybody processes that.

“Well that’s horseshit!” Ed’s voice shatters through the silence, everyone turning to look at him as he leans forward stabbing the table with a finger. “What kind of backass logic supports that?”  the finger then raises and jabs at Dark and Wilford. “And if he’s _your_ friend, how can we trust either one o’ you? How do we know you ent just been collectin’ us for your ol’ buddy?”

Dark twists his neck, feeling it crack as he tries to keep his cool. “Wilford and I are the only reason he hasn’t already come for you.”

Bing mutters something and Dark turns to him, his eyes looking more sunken and his aura bleeding into the air around him. “Do you have something to say, Ashley?”

Bing sits up, looking pissed, “Yeah. I said, you’re full of it. Acting like you’ve been looking after us when you literally used me as live bait to catch Natemare.” the cyborg glances across to the spirit in the corner who honestly just looks like he wants to merge into the shadows and disappear.

“We have bigger problems to worry about here-”

“Not to mention keeping your boyfriend secret and putting almost half the building at risk.” Bing continues still pissed. He glances sideways at Marvin who looks kind of broken as he avoids looking at anyone. “Sorry Marvin.” The magician mutters that its okay, though when Anti moves closer, he doesn’t move away, grateful not to feel alone in this.

Dark catches Marvin’s eyes for a moment and quickly glances away. That bridge is burned. He’s just trying to help them, can’t they all see that?

“The clinic _has_ been an awful lot busier lately.” Dr Ipier adds.

The egos all begin talking at once and internally, Dark shatters, just like that old mirror, cracks reaching to the very edge of his being as he sees the fruits of his labor. The only one who is silent is Silver who just sits there staring at Dark, giving a half shrug as their eyes meet.

**-BANG-**

Dark is the only one who doesn’t flinch, everyone else’s hands flying to cover their ears to block out the ringing from the gunshot fired into the ceiling. Wilford is stood, his gun pointed to the fresh hole there.

“Mark will kill every last one of you and walk out the door laughing.” There is a mania to his eyes and his voice. He slowly lowers the gun, his finger still twitching on the trigger.

Dark’s hand stretches out to take the gun from him as it always is when things get too much for Wilford. Wilford hands the gun over before turning to look at everyone. “We’re not saying forget that we’re assholes, we’re saying, there’s a bigger one out there, and if you’re not ready, _you’re going to die_.”

Reaching up, Dark pushes gently to get Wilford to sit again. The backup is helpful, it’s got their attention but it won’t do anybody any good for Warfstache to get worked up.

“Like it or not,” Dark continues, “Wilford and I have dealt with him before. We’re your best chance against him. So you can get mad, or you can get ready.”

Everybody still looks mad, but the anger is laced with determination as they all begrudgingly agree to be wary, be vigilant, to be ready.

Once the room is empty, everyone leaving very much more on edge than they used to be, Wilford pushes himself to his feet. “Julien should have been here for this.”

Dark closes his eyes and shakes his head. “We both know he was never going to come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _~~You can protect only one - Mark~~ _
> 
> __
> 
> _It is done_
> 
> __


	92. Late Night Thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King has some time to think.

It is a beautifully clear night, and King is up one of his trees. His legs are straight up against the trunk, going up, while he’s laid back against the branch, his arm dangling while he stares up through the leaves above him. The moon is half visible from this angle and despite the strange position, he’s surprisingly comfortable.

Since they found his trees he hasn’t needed to sleep half so much as he used to , but he still spends every night in their branches. It’s comforting and soothing, especially after so many years of being stuck in that awful room. To be able to just lay here and look at the sky, he can almost pretend that his forest is still here. Almost.

Tonight though he’s thinking, a lot more than he usually does at night. Dark lied about his trees and he’s still in the shit for that, but now that he’s had time to think, he can kind of see where Dark was coming from. King isn’t ignorant to how much of a vulnerability his trees are. So maybe there was a better way to go about it, but Dark wanting to find a way to sustain the tree spirit without the big weakness holding him back is…understandable. He’s still a dick, and the lying is a dick move.

King hears a sound from the garden down below and twists to see someone wandering around on the grass below. He instantly knows who it is, because there’s only one person who lives in this building who wears bright orange pajama pants.

With a simple twist, King just rolls off the branch, and falls. Since he got his trees back, he’s been surprisingly agile and lands gracefully on the grass below without a single issue. As he jogs over to Bing, the cyborg is glancing around with glazed eyes. He seems confused and King frowns at him.

“Bing?” The cyborg doesn’t seem to realise King is there until the dryad grabs his shoulders and gives him a firm shake. “Bing!”

Bing startles, jolting in King’s hold, and he blinks at King with suddenly tired eyes. “King….?” he says sleepily. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I’m not in your room. You’re in the garden.”

There a few moments as Bing looks around and notices that, hey! he’s in the garden! “….Why am I in the garden?”

“I think you were sleepwalking.” King pulls Bing into a hug which the cyborg kind of melts into a little bit. It’s obvious that he’s trying not to just fall asleep again. “You feeling okay?”

There’s an indistinct grumble that’s probably meant to be words but it makes no sense. Thankfully King knows exactly what to do.

Drawing back, he takes a firm hold of Bing’s hand and pulls the cyborg back indoors. There’s an airing cupboard two corridors in that has lots of blankets and while doing his best to not let Bing trip and fall, King goes to grab one before dragging the cyborg outside again.

There’s another grumble which King takes to mean what is he doing, as he pulls his friend towards the base of one of his trees. “You’‘re gonna sleep out here tonight.”

“Blanket.” Bing manages to say, giving a wide yawn.

“Already got you one.”

Pulling Bing close, King wraps his arms around the cyborg, holding him tight as he slowly lowers the two of them to sit down, leaning back against the trunk of the nearest tree. It takes a fair bit of shuffling and shifting for the two of them to get comfortable but eventually they manage to settle.

Bing’s head is on King’s shoulder, the top of his head just about tucked in under King’s chin, he’s twisted, with one arm thrown across King’s torso, holding firm in a tight hug. King has his arm nearest Bing wrapped around his friend, holding him close and supporting him. Grabbing the blanket, King throws it over Bing. It’s a mild night and probably not necessary but he knows how cold it can get without warning sometimes.

Bing mumbles something as King straightens out the blanket but at this point it’s more noise than words. King smirks.

“Go to sleep you dork.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _~~This is your last chance to save one of them. - Mark~~ _
> 
> _Too late. - Mark_


	93. Passing Glances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unrequited love is easier to recognise if you've been there, done that.

This building is a madhouse! It’s filled with too many people who all look the same and more than once Chase has mistaken someone for someone else and it’s starting to screw with his head. That doesn’t even touch on the two people who look like him but with green hair. So he spends most of his time with either Bim or Tobi, the most normal ones he can find, and even then one of them is magic, and the other is a freaking superhero. Still they seem….relatively grounded.

A couple days after the meeting, Chase is sat on a chair throwing a bean bag someone managed to get for him up into the air and catching it while Tobi is helping Bim get ready for his latest date with Matthias. It’s really not Chase’s thing. Dating, partners. Big whole mess and they seem to understand that he doesn’t want to be involved.

Being outside the situation though, Chase notices the glances. The slight adoration when Tobi looks at Bim and the utter heartbreak when the TV show host turns his back. The second one is something he’s well acquainted with so he  _knows_  he isn’t imagining it.

Eventually, Bim is dressed sharp, wearing a big smille and out the door with a call to not wait up. Chase gives a wave back and wishes him luck before continuing to toss his beanbag.

Once he’s certain Bim isn’t going to come back for something he forgot, he speaks. “It’s always hard to see them happy with someone else.”

Tobi throws a ‘don’t go there’ glare at Chase before turning away to put away the various outfits they’d been through together. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please.” Chase scoffs. “There are astronauts in orbit who can see how you feel about Bim.”

After a few moments of folding shirts, Tobi pauses, his back still to Chase.“He’s happy with Matthias.”

Chase gives a sigh. How are you supposed to argue with that? In the end you have to pick, would you rather they’re miserable or you’re miserable? Honestly, he doesn’t really like either option but the choices are limited, and is it really even a choice in the end?

“Have  _you_  tried dating?” he asks.

Tobi shrugs. “I had a girlfriend for a while.”

“Had?”

“I broke up with her. It wasn’t fair. I just wasn’t in it. And besides,” his lips pull into a small smile as he continues to tidy up, “I wanted to tell Bim everything.”

Chase catches the beanbag and sits forward. “So, what happened?”

“[I walked in and Bim was getting ready for his first date with Matthias. I hadn’t seen him that happy before. So I stayed quiet, helped him get ready, and I walked out.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14110158/chapters/33130446)”

Chase shakes his head. He couldn’t imagine resigning himself to helping Stacey prepare for her dates with someone else. No wonder those glances are slipping through when Bim isn’t looking. Honestly Chase thinks he would probably collapse under the strain.

After a moment, Tobi turns to Chase, a look of sad resignation on his face. “Do you fancy getting really,  _really_ drunk?”

“I’d love to.” he throws the beanbag up again. “Still can’t leave.”

“We have a bar.” It’s not a full bar. In fact it’s not even really a bar. It’s just a room for social drinking that they keep away from certain residents of the building like the Jims and Bing because none of them should be drinking.

Chase sits forward in shock, the momentarily forgotten beanbag landing on his head. “You what?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You made your choice. It was closer than I expected for a moment there, but I should have known. - Mark_


	94. Protect: the Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _66% of you chose to protect the Host._   
>  _Too bad for Dark._   
>  _\- Mark_

Dark doesn’t sleep. He could very well benefit if he were to try but it’s been a long time since he’s had the luxury. Nobody notices when he doesn’t, and he is still able to function as required, so it just falls by the wayside. He can feel the need startng to build up now. All the extra effort given that so few of them trust him any more just to keep this place in check, to make sure that everyone is still safe. It’s beginning to wear down on him but he doesn’t have time any more.

As he approaches his office, he twists his neck, feeling his entire broken body crack from the strain, his hand pushes open the door and he strides in.

“Ooh. That sounded painful.” comes a dangerously familiar voice from behind his desk and Dark freezes. Sat in Dark’s chair, his legs propped up on the desk before him, lips drawn in a horrifying smirk sits a man who shares Dark’s face, though it’s colorful and full of life. “I hope you didn’t break anything.”

Dark turns, intending to run out the door but before he’s turned the door is gone, replaced by a blank wall. No!

“Naughty naughty.” says the stranger. “Leaving before I dismiss you.” he swings his legs from the table and pushes himself to his feet. “Very rude.”

Dark is staring at the wall. After a moment he draws himself up, straightening his tie before turning, the image of composure. “Mark.”

Mark drags his fingers across the desk as he walks around it. As they brush over some paperwork, he flicks it to the floor, like a giant cat. Dark frowns at him but Mark clearly doesn’t care. “It’s been a long time.” he comments.

“Not long enough.”

Mark gives a naughty chuckle, gently wagging his finger at the grey demon as he moves to sit on the front of the desk. “You always had a wicked sense of humour.” the smile drops in an instant and his gaze turns stone cold. “I wonder which of my friends you stole that from.”

“You say that as though that’s  _you’re_ body you’re in right now.”

“Well if I ever see Damien again, I’ll be sure to apologise.” There’s a fierce anger aflame in his eyes and despite every instinct screaming to run, Dark stands in place. This…. _man_  will not see him squirm.

“You don’t have to make them suffer for what happened.” Dark offers.

Mark’s lips curl into another sly smirk and a giggle bubbles up, until Mark is laughing for a fair while. He raises a finger to wipe a non-existant tear from his eye. “Oh, Dark.” he wheezes. “maybe in another life we would have been friends.”

“What do you want?”

Mark’s hands come to rest on his legs as he sits forward a little. “Well I’ve had some time, a lot of time to think about it and sure, revenge, suffering, blah blah,” he raises his hand waves it dismissively as though it’s an inconsquential detail, “still want that, sure. But I’ve got my eyes on something….” he trails off and Dark raises an expectant eyebrow at him. Mark just stops, lowers his hand and smirks. “Well that would be telling.”

“Are you here to talk in cryptic riddles or do you have a point?”

“Partly to catch up, partly to gloat but mostly…….It’s time. I think we’ve got a good array here now and I’m tired of waiting.”

The confidence, the appearance, the control, the smug attitude. Dark closes his eyes as the truth of the matter dawns on him. “You could always get in here. You’ve just been waiting.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair and looks smug. “Our power comes from the same place, Dark.” That old house, the one that kept bringing Mark back, the one that made Dark. Both of their power derives from what was within those four walls. “There’s nothing you could have done to keep me out that wouldn’t have kept you out too.”

Dark turns to glance towards the wall that used to be the door in and out. “I presume this is you ‘getting me out of the way’.” he turns back, a firm scowl on his face. “They’ll notice my absence.”

“Au contraire, fine derriere.” Mark raises to his feet, lifting his right hand and snapping his fingers. His skin turns gray, his hair shortens and becomes neater while his casual clothes morph and change to a fine grey suit. To all the world, he’s now the spitting image of Dark, impossible to tell apart. Even as he speaks, Mark’s voice now has that inexplicable edge to his voice that laces Dark’s. “They won’t miss what’s still there.”

At the sudden change, Dark’s aura flares around him, angered but subdued as Mark’s aura, that matches Dark’s in every way lashes back to stop him.

“Let’s see how well you can protect them from in here.”

And in a blink, Mark is gone.


	95. Sleepwalking again?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Google insists on watching over Bing.

Google arrives at Bing’s room just as the cyborg is getting ready for bed. He waits for a moment, arms crossed as he leans against the doorway. Soon enough Bing turns and gives a large grin at seeing his older bro.

“S’up Goog.” Google just raises an eyebrow at Bing’s bright orange pajama pants. Bing notices and looks down before grinning up at Google again. “You’re just jealous.”

Google stands up straight again shaking his head. “Bring whatever you need to sleep.” he says before turning to leave.

Naturally Bing is confused and calls after Google but the robot just keeps walking, knowing that Bing will catch up. Sure enough in less than ten seconds the cyborg is jogging up behind him, carrying his pillow but no comforter. That’s fine though, it’s mild enough that it shouldn’t be an issue.

“Where we going?”

“To the lab.”

“You want me to sleep in the lab?”

“King says you were sleepwalking.” Google pushes open the door and holds it for Bing to go in. “I’d feel better knowing you’re where I can keep an eye on you.”

Bing shuffles into the lab, seeing the cot Google’s already set up for him to one side, a couple of lights turned off above it so it’s not glaringly bright. Bing grins a little harder. Man for all Google’s attempts to appear emotionless he’s really a big freaking softie.

Google instructs Bing that he’ll be working at his station and if the cyborg needs to leave for anything like the bathroom, he needs to tell the blue droid or suffer his wrath. Bing just laughs and flops onto the cot.

He falls asleep easily enough and feels like everything’s going okay, until he’s shaken awake, his legs almost giving out beneath him, but it’s alright since somebody has a firm hold of him.

“Bing?”

“Huh? Wha-?” As awareness comes back, Bing realises he’s stood on the other side of the lab and Google’s got a firm hold of both his arms, gazing intently into the cyborg’s eyes.

“You were sleepwalking. Are you alright?”

Bing knows there’s a part of him that should be afraid of the fact that he’s walking around in his sleep but right now all he can focus on is that he wants to sleep and hey, you know Google’s shirt looks super comfy right now.

Surging forward, Bing wraps his arms around Google’s chest and buries his face in his brother’s shirt giving a big sigh as he does so. “Yur really huggball y’know.” he mumbles.

Google isn’t expecting the sudden contact, completely taken by surprise, his arms raised as the cyborg just takes a surprisingly firm grip of his torso. It’s not long before the droid settles though, and manages to guide Bing back over to the cot. The droid sits down first, pulling the cyborg to lay down with his head in Google’s lap and hey, you know what, Bing is not opposed to that.

“I’m going to sit with you a bit.” Google explains. “Make sure you don’t wander off again.”

Bing just mumbles happily. He honestly wouldn’t mind if Google stayed there all night.

And honestly, Google wouldn’t mind it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So starting from here on out, updates will require a large amount of planning so my previous update-a-day posting schedule (when inspiration allows) will probably not be able to be maintained to the same level that it has to this point.
> 
> This is something I’ve been preparing for and building towards for five months now and I am going to be taking extra care not to trip and screw up this late in the game
> 
> Your patience is appreciated.


	96. No Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more Natemare....?

There’s some dumb documentary about something or other on the TV. Honestly, Mare isn’t actually watching it, but the alternative is just to sit in Wilford’s studio again and there’s only so many times you can see that man almost set fire to his studio before it stops being funny. Thirteen apparently is the magic number.

The TV shuts off, the screen turning black and Mare sits forward with a yell. He’s holding the remote but he wouldn’t put it past someone to teach the Jims about universal remote apps on phones. This line of thought is stopped dead when Mare spots Dark’s reflection in the blank screen and he scrambles to his feet.

Since Bing invited him to the building, Dark hasn’t come anywhere near Mare. Not to welcome him, not to berate him, not to apologise. As far as their past aggressions they’ve just been ignored and forgotten, too much else going on, but there’s something…off. A sharper edge to the edge lord’s presence, his aura bleeding into the air around him, a harsh look of anger pinning the spirit in place.

“ **You’re not welcome here,** ” Dark says.

A spark of anger lights up within Mare as he clenches his fist but does his best to keep his cool as he speaks. “You don’t get to decide that. Bing-”

“ **Isn’t here.** ” Dark’s hands are folded behind him and though he hasn’t moved any closer, Mare takes a step back. “ ** _Nobody’s_  here. And they never will be. Not for you.**” Each word carefully chosen plucks at Mare’s insecurities, his anxieties and fears, and it takes a lot to continue to glare at the demon before him. “ **At least in that puppet you provided joy to the children. What do you do now?** ”

“The Jims-” Mare starts.

“ **Leave.** ” Dark cuts him off. The instruction is firm, direct. There is no argument to be had. He’s offering no chance for debate. This is Dark’s word, and it is final.

Mare’s hands are shaking as he glares at the monster he’s always known Dark to be. The lights are flickering, his form is unstable, there are tears he would never dare let fall welling within his eyes. Closing his eyes, Mare bows his head and mutters a parting ‘fuck you’ before he’s just gone.

D/Mark turns, satisfied with what he managed to do, addressing the shadow in the corner of the room. “Do you have something you want to say?”

The deal maker is right in the corner, leaning against the wall, clutching his cane close, and purposefully not looking anywhere near what just happened. He shouldn’t have talked to Mark about Natemare but Phantom isn’t supposed to look like  _anyone_ , that’s what Mark’s always told him. To suddenly find someone who does? He needed answers, guidance. Something he should have known Mark would never give.

Phantom shakes his head. 

“So we can get back to the task at hand?”

He nods and Mark dismisses him. There’s still a fair bit to do.


	97. Jim's Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's taken a while. I'll be honest, I didn't think this was coming. Let us revel in the fact that it's happened :3

Silver is lounging on the couch, sitting sideways, his legs up in front of him, a book in his hands as he enjoys the brief silence. Quiet moments like this are hard to come by around here, and lord help him if he isn’t going to make the most out of it.

The hero groans internally as he hears the door open behind him, but he just keeps his eyes on his book, hoping it’s one of the more mature residents who’ll see he’s reading and give him his space. Not a high chance, but call him an optimist.

Sure enough, after a few moments, a pair of arms wrap around him from behind and Silver goes stiff, not sure if he’s under attack or being dragged off the couch or what. Lowering the book, he glances to the side, seeing a Jim’s head on his shoulder. The arms belong to him and are wrapped tight around the hero from behind and Silver is honestly not sure how to proceed. It’s only the one Jim, there’s no immediate sign of the other anywhere.

“Where’s your brother?”

“Sleeping,” Jim mumbles into Silver’s shoulder. His hold is firm and Jim clearly isn’t intending to let go any time soon. 

“So you’re hugging me?”  Silver doesn’t see the link from between one thing and the other. Then again the Jims rarely make sense. Still, it’s been a while since you saw one without the other for more than five seconds.

“You saved him and I never thanked you.” Jim mumbles.

Man, that feels like so long ago. Going after Anti, making that deal with him, getting possessed, not being possessed any more, and then everything that’s come after. Silver’s barely thought about it for more than two minutes since then, and it hadn’t even occurred to him that neither Jim ever acknowledged that he traded himself for one of them.

“You really don’t have to-”

“I punched you,” Jim cuts across him, “a  _lot_ , and you still went and saved my brother.”

Silver brushes his fingers absently against his own cheek where Jim had punched him. “…That’s what heroes do.” he offers.

“Thank you,” Jim says again and squeezes Silver tighter.

After a few more minutes, Silver checks his watch before saying over his shoulder, “Are you tired?” he feels a nod against his shoulder. “You want to sit with me for a while?” Another nod.

Sitting forward, Silver extracts himself from the lone Jim’s hold and pulls him to come and sit on the couch, swinging his own legs over the edge and guiding the Jim to sit down next to him before wrapping his arm around Jim’s shoulders and pulling him into a fairly tight side hug.

Something may have happened, or Jim could just be worried. Apparently, the twins have been working with Natemare. That can’t be a stress-free environment for anyone involved. But Silver doesn’t question it, he doesn’t look for rhyme or reason. At the moment, Jim needs to hug him and hell, who is Silver to say no?


	98. Wilford KNOWS Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You cannot fool a madman.

Dark isn’t entirely an asshole. I mean he  _is_  an asshole, that is something no one who lives in this building will fight you on. He is a self-serving, hypocritical, jerk-ass who will not listen to anyone else. You do things his way or he will make sure you pay for going against him.

But Wilford  _knows_  Dark. He knows the rage that swells in those bones. The broken anger of two souls long dead welling up and screaming for revenge against he who used to be brother and friend. The constant battle with his aura, the strain every day as Dark fights it, forces it to obey him and not the other way around.

Wilford knows that Dark’s body is incredibly broken.  ~~It was an accident.~~  He knows that Dark is in near constant agony, and for each time he’s walked in on Dark in tears and fighting the urge to scream in pain, there’s probably fifty more where Dark was left alone. If you’re looking right, you can see when the pressure starts to build in his bones, you can see the ache and the strain on his face, and the fierceness with which Dark fights to hold himself together. And Wilford sees the relief when Dark turns his neck and something cracks, releasing and giving him a brief reprieve.

When Marvin came, Wilford saw the passing smiles. The momentary slip where Dark would break the facade and allow himself to be happy. Something he would only do when he thought no one was watching. And since Wilford reminded Dark of his duty to their family, he saw Dark draw away from that. The smiles stopped, the sighs of frustration grew more frequent.

The  _point_  is that Wilford  _knows_  Dark. He knows the tics and the troubles, the wheres and the whyfores. He knows Dark forwards and backwards, at his best and at his worst. So there isn’t a single doubt in his mind that whoever’s stood at the head of the table addressing them in this latest meeting, is nothing but an imposter in demon’s clothing. Sure he’s pretty good at going through the motions but that’s all they are, like he’s hitting marks in a play.

The others seem to be buying it, but to be fair a large portion of them are mad at him these days so they’re probably not looking very close. The pink man can’t put his finger on exactly  _what_  it is that he’s seeing but he knows, he  _knows_ ,  **this isn’t Dark**.

So he doesn’t think twice as he stands and draws out his gun pointing the barrel between the imposter’s eyes.


	99. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not push

The room falls silent. No one can ever recall a time that Wilford has ever pointed a gun at Dark. Sure, once or twice Dark’s gotten stuck in the crossfire, but everyone’s at risk then. This....this is clearly personal.

After a moment, Ed speaks up, sitting forward.“I thought we weren’ allowed t’bring guns int’meetin’s any more.” A unanimous decision after Ed and Wilford’s many firefights. Too much risk, too much collateral damage.

“As if  _we_  can make Wilford do anything.” Silver comments from where he’s half-slumped against the table.

“Freakin’ double standard,” Ed grumbles, sitting back again.

BANG!

A shot rings out as Wilford fires into the ceiling, everyone’s hands flying to cover their ears at the sudden noise. With all their attention back to the problem at hand, Wilford aims between ‘Dark’s eyes again. “Where’s Dark?”

There’s a beat, everyone exchanging confused glances, a couple of them wondering if maybe Wilford’s lost his grip again, but he seems coherent. Everyone’s eyes come to rest on their leader, stood at the head of the table and more than one of them begins to question whether or not something more is going on here. 

They watch as Dark’s typically stoic, stone-faced exterior shifts and melts into an unrecognisable smirk and air of self-assured cockiness. Several chairs push back from the table in nervousness. It’s not a look that suits Dark, and that’s probably the biggest indicator that this isn’t who it appears to be.

'Dark’ glances over them all, seeming to asses his options before inclining his head slightly. “He’s safe. For now.”

The hammer of Wilford’s gun clicks back as he cocks the weapon again. “You have two minutes to bring him here before I blow your brains out.”

The response is a dry laugh. “And you have twenty seconds to get that gun out of my face before I destroy your little family.” Unphased, the man at the head of the table pulls at the cuff of his suit jacket, giving a half-shrug. “All I need is four words. I suggest you don’t push me.”

“Wilford...?” Bim reaches for Wilford’s arm, gently trying to get him to lower it, but meeting a large amount of resistance. All of them have moved back from the table even further, not sure how to react to what’s unfolding before them. “Maybe you should put down the gun?”

Wilford has always been stubborn, ever since they were kids. His way, or no way. He’d rather go without than cave in, and after what happened all those years ago at the manor, it seems to only have gotten worse. Which is a shame, because Wilford is about to learn, that sometimes, being stubborn has dangerous consequences.

‘Dark’ tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Okay, Google.

Google’s eyes flash, and his body locks up as he awaits instruction. Bing’s eyes go wide in panic and he leaps to his feet as he shouts.

“WILFORD PUT THE GUN DOWN!! PUT IT DOWN!! PUT IT DOWN  **NOW**!!” He doesn’t know what this imposter is about to say, but whatever it is, Google won’t have any choice but to do it and like heck is he going to let this stranger take control of his brother.

The sudden loud voice after such calm and quiet talking makes everyone jump. They all turn to look at Bing in confusion, meaning only Bing and Wilford see the satisfied smile on ‘Dark’s lips as he says the final two words.

 “Kill Bing.”


	100. "Kill Bing."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overcoming orders is not possible.

Google grabs the back of Bing’s neck, smashing his face off the edge of the table, a loud crunch as the cyborg’s nose breaks, blood pouring down his face. Bing doesn’t have an off-switch, making the simplest option of turning him off simply not viable. Still, Google has worked on Bing enough times to know the boy’s weaknesses.

With Bing suitably distracted by the broken nose, it takes nothing to shove him up against the nearby wall. The droid wraps a hand around his throat, fingers locking in position around the cyborg’s windpipe, pulling him away before smashing him against the wall again. The life-support is hardy but if Google can smash Bing against the wall hard enough, it’ll be damaged enough that it will fail. No life support, the only thing keeping him alive will be his severely weakened respiratory system.

There are hands trying to tear his arms away from Bing, but they’re not strong enough to do anything but register on Google’s system. He was designed to be strong, to overpower any number of obstacles. All that matters is that he completes his objective.

“Okay, Google. You can stop.”

The objective is erased. Google blinks. Bing is unconscious, blood all over his face, only held aloft by the blue droid’s grip around his neck. King of the Squirrels has a tight hold of Google’s arm, trying to pry him off, while someone else has arms wrapped around the droid’s shoulders from behind.

Everybody is shouting and Google doesn’t know what to do. He just stops, allowing himself to be torn away from Bing who crumples to the floor. Dr Iplier rushes over to check him while King tries to get Bing to wake up. Is he dead? Did…did Google…?

“It’s not your fault.” says a voice at his shoulder as the Dr looks for a pulse. Silver. The hero is the one who has him by the shoulders. “We’ve got him. We’ve got you. It’s not your fault.”

Bim has a hold of Wilford, forcing him to point the gun at the floor. Everyone seems in varying states of distress but Google is barely paying attention. His attention is consumed entirely by what he’s done. 

There’s a ripple of magic and the facade of looking like Dark peels away leaving a stranger stood in his place. He still has the same face as all of them but there’s something strange about him, something more vibrant and surprisingly youthful, especially compared to how he looked a moment ago.

“The smarter ones among you will have figured out who I am by now.” There’s a smug satisfaction on his face as he sees the shock on Wilford’s face, the gun dropping from his fingers. 

Mark glances over all of them, addressing the group. “I know all your secrets. All of them. And I know just how to use them to-”

Two hands slam onto either side of Mark’s head, his eyes rolling up into his head, eyelids flickering. Natemare is stood behind him, dragging his mind into a crude, shoddy world of nightmares. It’s last minute, and wouldn’t fool nobody’s grandma but it‘ll hold him for now.

Everyone watches in shock as Mark crumples to the table, Mare scowls. “Jackass!”


	101. Escape Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of chaos, a hero rises

Everyone is silent for a few moments as they all share confused glances and try to process what they’ve just witnessed.

“Hi ‘Mare.” Silver says in shock, giving a slight wave to the spirit before he points at Mark’s prone form. “How long is that going to hold?”

Mare steps back, shaking his head. “Probably not long.” Mark’s mind is strong and it didn’t go down without a fight. And that nightmare is the product of about five seconds and no knowledge of who this fucker is. “Two minutes if we’re lucky.”

The Host rises from his seat, clearly distressed, his usual composed form gone replaced by obvious panic and fear. “The Host suggests we get out of this building.”

“I know somewhere we can hole up.” Mare offers. “It’s not the nicest place but-”

Silver holds up a hand to stop him “If it’s not here, it’ll do. Google.” The droid is zoned out staring at Bing, and Silver frowns as he claps at him. “Google! On a time frame here! Where are the others?”

Google mumbles something about them being in the lab, and Silver slaps the droid, who yells turning to Silver as he holds his cheek. “Tell them we’re evacuating and to grab anything we might need to help Bing.” Google rubs at his cheek, his eyes flashing as he sends a message along the Googles’ private network.

Silver turns to Bim who’s still holding onto Wilford whose eyes are distant and staring at Mark. Clearly, the pink man is checked out mentally. Great. Just great. “Bim, you think you can get people to the hideout?”

“What about the others?” Since the building acquired new residents, namely Chase, Marvin and Anti, the Jims have given up their hovering post on the door. They’re out there but Silver has no intent on leaving them behind.

“I’ll find them. Meet you in the lab in ten minutes. Grab who you can and-”

Everyone screams as Mark shifts, clearly fighting against the visions in his head and trying to drag himself skyward.

“He’s waking up!” Mare warns.

“Out! Everybody out!” Silver shouts, pointing to the door.

Everyone rushes for the door, Bim dragging Wilford, Ed leaping over the table,  Google scooping up Bing and following Dr Iplier with King behind him. Silver waits for everyone to leave, before turning to Mare who’s still stood behind Mark.

“Tell Bim to start evacuating people. He may have to make more than one trip. I’ll grab the others and be at the lab soon. Give the Googles a chance to get what they need to help Bing but the priority is that we get out, understood?” Mare nods and disappears, and Silver rushes out the door.

It’s another minute or two before Mark finally stands up, tearing his eyes open, sweat pouring down his brow, breath heavy, mind panicked. He screams Phantom’s name to the ceiling and the deal maker steps from the shadows, clutching his cane close. Mark is mad. That never ends well.

“Stop at least one of them!” Mark gestures at the door. Phantom nods and is about to leave when Mark points at him. “Not Julien. Leave  _him_  to me.”

Phantom nods again, snapping his fingers and disappearing from the room.


	102. Dubious Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not what King wants, but maybe what he needs?

King is rushing through the corridor, right behind Google when Phantom steps from the shadows, raising his hands to stop him as he moves directly into King’s path.

“Stop!” he calls.

King scrambles to a stop, almost falling to the ground as he backs up. Google and the others are further ahead and if he calls for them, that’ll just put them at risk, but King is willing to fight this asshole if he has to.

“You don’t scare me.” he says as he draws himself up, raising his fists ready to punch this stranger.

Phantom lowers his hands again, a look of desperation on his face. “You can’t leave.”

King scoffs. “I’d llike to see you stop me.”

“Mark knows about your trees. If you leave he’ll burn them to the ground.”

King’s trees. What little amount of his forest that remains in this world. That relies on him to protect it from dickholes like this and he was going to leave it again. Fuck. If he leaves, his forest will die.

Phantom steps forward. “I can’t stop him. I’ve tried and it never ends well, but I  _can_  create a loophole.”

King looks up, locking eyes with Phantom. “What kind of loophole?”

“As an agent of Mark’s, I can make a deal with you that he  _has_  to abide by. He wouldn’t be able to touch you  _or_  your trees.”

It sounds almost too good to be true. “And what’s my end of the deal?”

“You can’t leave. You have to stay in the building.”

“But what if-”

“ _No leaving_. We don’t have time to negotiate.” Phantom offers his hand forward and King stares at it. Give up his family in order to protect his trees. The worst possible decision but without his trees, he’ll cease to be. Beyond ressurection, he’ll just stop existing, and the death won’t be pleasant. It’s hardly a decision. It’s being stuck in a burning building or jumping onto a pile of sharp rocks. One way or another somebody’s going to get hurt.

“The others have Bing.” Phantom holds his hand forward more insistently. “You have just as much right to protect yourself as any of them, King.”

King thinks about it. I mean he really thinks. If he goes, his trees will die, if he stays, they will be protected. Bing will be safe with the others, they won’t let anything bad happen to him. And they’ll be better off without him. Beyond caring for his forest what does he really contribute to the building anyway? Nothing much. Maybe the best thing he could do for them is to remove himself from the game board, take away the potential weakness. King reaches forward.

As King takes a firm hold of Phantom’s hand, a large wind from nowhere blows along the corridor. Fine wisps of deep red magic rise from the ground, twisting and swirling in the air around them, more and more until it completely surrounds them.

Phantom’s grip is tight, his eyes firmly locked on King’s as his power swirls around them, growing in potency, becoming a deeper and deeper red as the deal is sealed. Slowly it begins to die down again and Phantom withdraws his hand, straightening himself and checking his cane.

“You’ve done the right thing.” Phantom assures the dryad who looks between his hands wondering what the hell he’s just done.

King wishes he could agree.


	103. The Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark will not let the Host leave

Everyone is in a panic in the lab, Bim having gone to the warehouse with Mare and Wilford so he knows where they’re going. The Googles are trying to grab everything they might need, their leader at a loss. Ed is pacing back and forth, ranting about how he knew something crazy was coming, though the Host highly doubts it. King of the Squirrels is missing, though the Host knows of his deal with Phantom. Dr Iplier is doing what he can for Bing who’s still unconscious, and the Host doesn’t see Bing waking before this is over.

All around him is nothing but mess; panic, fear, mania. Despite his best efforts to block it out, just to focus on the immediate, the Host cannot get his mind clear. Until the last minute he’s blind to the rising risk, the creep of power as it passes over his back. The aura, that power, Dark’s power, Mark’s power, the one that has haunted him over the years in his nightmares, in his visions, rises fromt he ground and latches onto him, curling tight around his arms and legs before dragging him down into a black void of endless nothing. He hears Ed calls his name but it’s too late.

The tendrils of power take a firm hold, wrapped tightly around his limbs as they lift him into the air, holding him aloft, no sensation but their sharp sting. Around him, the host can feel the pulsing presence of the aura, the almost-sentient creature that grants Mark his power, his immortality, his ruthless brutality. Somewhere in the midst of it all, almost swallowed whole, the Host senses the faint spark that he’d recognise anywhere as Mark’s soul.

“You had to know,” comes Mark’s voice, “that of all of them, I was never going to let  _you_ leave.”

“The Host is no longer your friend.”

“ _Again_  with the Host.” Mark’s soul moves through the darkness, disappointment pulsing from within it. “And why? Because you’re afraid? You were the  _Author_!”

The Host strains against the hold on him, though it doesn’t budge, rage welling within him, wanting to rise up and lash out at the monster before him. “You. Took. My. Eyes.”

“ _To make you more powerful_. And it worked!” Mark moves closer taking a firm hold of the Host’s jacket and pulling him closer. “Without the distraction of reality, I know you see further than you ever did before. You have greater control. I told you you could be powerful. You just had to  _trust_ me.”

“At what cost? The Host has seen into the heart of eternity and been burned by the darkness in the collective soul of humanity. He has seen infinite possibilities, infinite timelines, infinite wins, infinite losses. He has seen every outcome of your plans, every  _possible_  outcome, every thought, every decision. All of it, all at once. All because of what  _you_  did.”

Silence drags between them, and the Host feels it before Mark snorts in his face, lips drawing back into a smile. He loosens his hold and draws away trying to stifle his laughter. “Your descriptions haven’t gotten any less pretentious.”

The Host strains against the hold on him again as Mark continues to laugh. There is no escape from this. Mark isn’t here to reminisce. Despite being a moron he’s a cold, calculating man and the reason he hasn’t killed the Host is because he wants something.

“What do you want from the Host?”

Mark smiles, wiping a fake tear from his eye as he steps back. Once he’s suitably calmed he takes a breath and gives a gentle sigh. “I’m bringing her back.”

The Host drops his head. This again. If Mark wasn’t such an idiot, the Host might almost feel sorry for him. He sympathises with the former actor, he really does, but he doesn’t need to be psychic to know that this cannot end well. “She’s gone, Mark. You  _need_  to give upwith this.”

Mark just raises a disapproving finger and wags it in the Host’s face. “No, no, no. I have found a way, and it will be just like before. But I need  _your_ power.”

The Host tries to break free one last time but when it fails, again, he forces as much anger and hatred as he can into his next words. “Fuck you.”


	104. You Can't Save Everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do not feed the complex.

“There  _has_  to be some other way. Maybe some counter-spell.”

“Tobi.”

“Some kind of hex, or potion or-”

“We don’t have time!” Bim has one arm across himself while the other cradles his head. There’s a headache slowly blossoming from the base of his brain. It could be the strain of having to make multiple trips to and from this safe house place, it could be the incredible risk right now of Mark coming through that doorway and killing them all. Or maybe, just maybe, it could be because they’ve been having this argument for the last ten minutes and the hero is refusing to listen to reason. “Mark is going to be here any second and we need to leave!”

Tobi turns from where he’s pacing nervously and angrily shouts at the TV show host. “We can’t just  _leave him_  here!”

Everyone else is in this safe house of Mare’s, only Bim, Silver, and Chase remain, the former two arguing over their next course of action. Chase is leaning against a nearby desk, his cap pulled low over his brow, pretending that he isn’t terrified of what the outcome of this is going to be.

Bim  _tried_ to transport him like the others, but the power that’s keeping Chase here overwhelmed his, and once Chase began screaming, Bim stopped. Someone really doesn’t want Chase to leave this building and Silver refuses to accept it. Because of course the ass with hero complex is insisting that they have to save everybody.

“We are running out of options!” Bim insists. “Mark-”

“I am  _not_  leaving him alone!”

Bim crosses his arms as he shuffles in place and straightens himself out. He knows that Tobi isn’t going to like what he’s about to say and he almost wishes he didn’t have to say it. “He won’t be alone.”

The hero turns, eyes aflame with anger and confusion. “What do you mean ‘he won’t be alone’?”

Plastic wheels roll across the concrete floor and they turn to see the King of the Squirrels sat in one of the Google’s chairs wheely chairs, having pushed himself across the room. He avoids looking anywhere near Silver or Bim.

“I’m staying.” King says, looking to Chase. The two of them haven’t really shared a lot of time. The occasional greeting, but they’re going to have plenty of time to get closer.

King arrived not five minutes before Tobi and the others, telling Bim about the deal he’s made, how he can’t leave. King  _has_  to stay.  _Chase_ has to stay. They won’t be alone, they can protect each other and keep each other safe.

“Has the  _whole world_ gone mad?!” Tobi turns from one, to the other, to the other. He’s clearly enraged and insulted at the idea of leaving anyone behind.

Bim shakes his head. “In a perfect world, neither of them would stay but no matter how hard you try, Tobi, no matter how bad you want it, sometimes, you can’t save everyone.”

“Fucking watch me!” Tobi turns to Chase and King, looking between them with a look of pure rage.

King folds his arms, meeting Bim’s eye over the hero’s shoulder, giving a slight nod. Bim raises his arm up, pointing it towards his friend’s back, fingertips lighting up purple.

“Sorry Silver.” King says quietly, turning to look to Chase instead. “But the others need you more than we do.”

Bim’s magic flows through him, his fingertips guiding it to surround both Tobi and himself, wrapping tightly around them turning the air purple, humning with life and excitement. The world around them warps and changes, shifting as Bim transports Tobi to where the others are waiting for them in the safe house.

“No!” Too late, Tobi realises what’s happening, turning and grabbing Bim the the lapel of his suit jacket, seeming enraged but from this close, Bim can see the absolute terror and guilt in the hero’s eyes. “Why! Why would you do that!”

Bim grabs Tobi by the elbows and gives him a firm shake in kind. The usually light-hearted TV show host is stern as he speaks because he needs Tobi to listen to him and trust him in this moment. “Because there was nothing more you could do.”

Tobi tears away, his fists shaking at his side, for a brief second, it’s easy to believe he’s another version of Dark as the barely contained rage that courses through him strips away a lot of the differences between them.

The two of them glare at each other, unspoken anger and determination passing between them but Bim stands his ground. He knows he did the right thing and Tobi can get pissy all he wants, that’s not going to change.


	105. Excuses, excuses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences.

Phantom is on his hands and knees, shaking from the strain of trying to hold himself together. Mark is stood over him, his fingers are tightly gripped around the deal maker’s cane. 

“You don’t bring me a robot. You don’t bring me the magic users. You don’t even bring me your brother-in-fiction. No.  _You_  bring me the rodent monarch.” The globe begins to glow, an intense light building within it and Phantom shakes, fighting the urge to cry out as he tries to keep from breaking apart. “Youaren’t worth the paper you were written on.”

Finally the light dies and Phantom gasps, his lungs finally able to take in air. And he tries, he tries to give the explanation he has prepared. About Bing being the emotional center of the group and King being a part of his emotional support. An integral part. Without King there, Bing’s recovery will falter and the others will struggle to regroup. He’s crucial to their next move! But the words are barely forming, stuttering and catching in his throat as he feels himself wavering.

Mark just rolls his eyes and raises the cane, the globe glowing again. This time Phantom can’t stop himself from screaming. His own power is being used to tear at him right at his core, ripping him apart until the pain snaps and Phantom collapses to the floor.

“P-please….stop….” he manages to plead.

Mark kneels down, his voice quiet and ominously calm as he talks to the quivering mess on the floor. “You’re lucky I need you  _specifically_  to achieve my goals. Or I would just have Julien  _erase_  you.”

Phantom shakes his head, giving a pained groan as he tries to shift away. He doesn’t want to be erased. He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to be here but he has no choice. When he sees Mark raise the cane again he flinches and Mark laughs at him. 

“Pathetic.” he spits. Mark gestures up with the cane and Phantom is plucked from the ground, suspended a foot above the floor. The actor turns the cane in his hand, allowing the glass to catch the light and reflect the pain of its owner quite brilliantly.

“I’m going to hold on to this.” Mark states, pointing it at the deal maker. “Until such time that you  _prove_  yourself to me. Because lately Phantom,” Mark shakes his head disapprovingly and does a dramatic pout, “I’m not impressed.”

“You can’t-!” Phantom attempts to protest but is cut off as the cane is jabbed at him and his air suddenly cuts off.

“No boy, I think you’ll find that I can.”

Mark thrusts the cane at him, and Phantom is thrown through Mark’s black void, hurtling through it until it finally spits him out. The deal maker tumbles to the floor and he struggles to find the strength to push himself up. Slowly, he gets to his feet and his fingers instinctively clutch around nothing. Mark has taken his cane.

Shit.


	106. The calm after the storm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well that was unexpected....

“Dark’s missing.” Silver stands with his back to the rest of the main room of the warehouse that Bim has brought them to. Everyone is scattered around, all trying to gather themselves and reconcile the terrible things they’ve just survived. “We lost the Host. King and Chase are trapped.”

“Wilford isn’t responding.” Bim adds, glancing over to where he left Wilford with the Jims. The pink man has zoned out, staring at a spot on the floor while the Jims speak softly to him.

“Neither is Google. He won’t let go of Bing.” The droids and Dr Iplier are over in  the corner still tending to the fallen cyborg. At least they’re trying beacuse Google is still cradling him even with Oliver trying to convince him to let go, just so Dr Iplier can get a good look at him.

“How  _is_  Bing?” Bim asks.

“Still unconscious.” Red closes his eyes with a sigh and crosses his arms. “I have concerns.

All the usual leaders are out of comission, Mark having taken them out one way or another. That leaves the three of them, Bim, Silver, and Red, to step up and take care of those who remain, many of whom can barely be trusted to look after themselves at the best of times. During what is basically the end of their way of life, this isn’t going to be an easy task.

“What do we do?” Bim asks.

“We endure.” Red says.

Silver nods. “I think tonight, we get some food, we look after our wounded, and tomorrow we-”

“I should call the exterminator.” a dangerously familiar voice interrupts and they turn.  Mad stands in the nearest doorway, leaning heavily on the frame. His irises are almost completely black as he glares at them, every inch of visible pale skin covered in criss-crossing black veins. An ominous rattle is heard from his lungs as he takes a labored breath and leans even heavier against the frame. “It would seem I have an infestation of morons.”

All of them take a defensive stance, ready for a fight, though Mad looks like the next cough might just turn him inside out.

“I don’t remember inviting you idiots in-” Mare appears between them, fists clenched, eyes blazing as he faces Mad whose eyes narrow. “Hello  _Judas_.”

“You’re sick.” Mare says, very matter-of-factly. Mad draws back, knowing what Mare is meaning to hint at and not wanting to agree with his former friend. He doesn’t let go of the doorframe though and has barely moved a step away.

“I  _don’t_  need your help.”

“Bull  _shit_.” Mare steps forward, reaching out with his hand, only to have it slapped away. Mad jabs an accusing finger at the spirit, anger in his eyes.

“No! I’m still mad at you!”

“Then  _be_  mad you pompous, melodramatic, asshole.” This time he doesn’t give Mad a chance, grabbing for the madman’s wrist and holding tight on as he madman tenses up, eyes going wide.

They all watch as the veins, shrink and disappear, Mad’s blackened eyes slowly clearing to their usual dark brown. The inky blackness is rushing across his skins to Mare’s hand, drawn from Mad and slowly crawling up the spirit’s arm. It doesn’t get very far though, seemingly burning away before it gets too far and leaving nothing behind.

Once the last drop of black is gone from Mad’s body, Mare lets go and watches him drop to the floor, smirking when Mad gives a tremoundous groan.

After a few moments, Mad manages to push himself over so he’s laid on his back glaring up at the spirit. “I  _still_ hate you.”

Mare flexes his hand, the last few flecks of black disappearing from his arm before he shoves his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome.”

Silver, Bim, and Red all stare in complete and utter confusion. It’s the hero who says what they’re all thinking.

“What the fuck was that!”


	107. Just Like Old Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No two friendships are alike...

Mad looks up at the weirdos who are all probably scowling or confused or-honestly he doesn’t care. He isn’t dealing with them and he’s isn’t going to sit in a circle with them playing kum bya or whatever it is they do. It’s mushy gumbo and he wants no part of it.

“Mad?” Looking back to Mare, the spirit is holding a hand out for him to take and Mad pauses only to flip the intruders off before taking the hand. For a split second, everything whooses around him before they land and he tears his hand from Mare’s again.

“I’m still mad at you.” Mad moves to his work bench.

Mare leans against the door to Mad’s mini-workshop, reaching up to lock it as he knows Mad prefers. There’s still only one light in here, sat on the bench, illuminating Mad’s little project. The spirit knows better than to ask. “I’m  _not_  explaining myself to you.”

“You don’t have to. Just know that I’m mad.”

Mare snorts and after a moment Mad snorts as well. That’s the beauty of their friendship. While kind of complex it’s also kind of simple. They’re both kids who found themselves in different awful situations and had to grow up pretty quick to survive in this crackpot world. Both of them are unstable and their mood can flip on a dime, but bring them together, let them interact, and they  _can_  cancel each other out.

“You let it get real bad this time.” Mare comments and Mad gives a half-shrug.

“What was I gonna do?” There’s no cure for what happened to him. The ink is sentient, self-sustaining, and respawns. As it comes back it starts in his lungs and slowly begins to spread. Leave it long enough, it will probably consume him, make him like the others. He’s only survived this long because they found out, by accident, that Mare can draw it out and burn it off.

“You could have  _called_  me.” Mad raises an eyebrow at him and Mare gives a knowing nod. “Except you’re a hardass who holds grudges.”

“And  _you_  betrayed me, then brought the reject little rascals into my home.” He doesn’t want them coming anywhere near him. All such happy peppy weirdos who probably would relish the chance to use Mad as a human punching bag. Though maybe less happy peppy right now.

“We needed somewhere to hide. I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“It’s  _my_  hideout!” he jabs a finger at the door. “I don’t want them here!”

“Well neither do they! But compared to this Mark guy, you’re smallfry.” Slowly, Mare makes his way over before turning and leaning against the workbench. There’s a slight smirk on his lips. “I learned something new about Google.”

That gets Mad’s attention. The holy grail of robotics. Google IRL, one remaining unit in operation. Sure there’s the three knockoffs created by the unit itself, but they’re impure. Google is one of a kind and Mare knows that Mad would kill to get his hands on the bot’s chassis. “What did you learn?”

Mare shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “Turns out he has a built-in voice control system.”

Mad pauses in thought for a few moments. Google IRL was intended to be an assistant droid and would naturally follow any order given to it,  _if_  it was programmed properly. Such a feature would be a wonderful gimmick but ultimately useless unless they expected their droids to go deviant and attempt to break their programming. Mad looks up to Mare. “I presume it requires trigger words.”

“Naturally.” Mare smirks and vaguely gestures to the door. “You let them stay here, maybe you can learn some more things.”

Mad’s fingers drum against the worktop, a rapid dum-dum-dum-dum against the wood as he considers it. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to at least talk with Google. The unit was designed to possibly be repurposed as a security guard for celebrities so Mad isn’t stupid enough to consider any kind of attack on Google. That would just end in pain and ignorance, neither of which he’s that interested in experiencing.

“Fine.” he eventually huffs, raising his fingers back to his project. “But they attack me, and they can fuck off.”

“I’ll let them know.” Mare pushes off from workbench. Mad doesn’t really play well with others so this is probably the best he could hope for.

“Mare.” Mare stops, turning back. Mad is still tinkering. “I’m glad you’re not still trapped.” Mad doesn’t do regrets. He does frequently act without thinking and then reassess later but he doesn’t do regrets. But when he returned to his old workshop and found it empty, he was maybe a little concerned that the spirit may have moved on. Not that he’s going to admit that to anyone  _ever_.

Mare chuckles before he’s gone.


	108. Moment of Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The droids are in trouble.

“You need to let him go Google.” Dr Iplier says again.

Google has a firm hold on Bing. He was ordered to kill Bing, and until he was told to stop, he was succeeding. Google’s system is telling him he did good, that he followed his orders correctly and that the fact that Bing isn’t waking up is a good thing. Except he knows it isn’t. He  _needs_  Bing to open his eyes now and he’s terrified that if he lets the cyborg go, the boy isn’t going to wake. That he may have actually succeeded.

“Google please. We can help him!” pleads Oliver.

Google has a hand on Bing’s chest, paying close attention to Bing’s breathing, the very slight movement that indicates that Bing is still alive is the only thing keeping him grounded right now. But is it? It’s possible the life support could continue to function even if Bing wasn’t alive. It’s hardier than the old one which would break down in a strong wind. How does Google know that Bing’s still alive?

Green has to hold Google back as Oliver finally manages to pull Bing from his arms, shifting him over to the doc who takes off his coat and folds it to place under Bing’s head. With bruises blossoming on his neck, the doc opts to check Bing’s pulse in his left wrist, carefully counting while Oliver cleans the blood from the cyborg’s face and does what he can to check the life support.

“He’s fine.” Dr Iplier insists, looking directly at Google as he speaks, hand still on Bing’s wrist, still counting, feeling for any abnormalities. “Google.” the droid looks to him. “Bing’s fine.”

“Why isn’t he awake?” he pulls against Green’s hold on him, but his brother is firm.

“Give him a chance. Just let him breathe.” Dr Iplier glances over to Oliver who confirms that the damage to the life support is minimal, with no major or lasting damage. Nothing that won’t wait.

The pulse under his own fingers is firm. Not as strong as it might be if he hadn’t been attacked, but it’s definitely there and the life support is doing its job of keeping Bing’s blood pumping.

Twenty minutes pass by. The doc insists that they leave Bing to breathe, let his body recover and wake up on its own. Now that Google isn’t fighting him, Green sits with his back against his older brother’s arm. Oliver sits on the other side, legs crossed and facing Google, holding his brother’s left hand with both of his own. They seemingly sit in silence.

Red, it seems, has stepped up to replace Google among the new leaders of the group. Across the network, Red tells them how they’re planning to order pizzas for Bim and Silver to collect from a nearby pizza place. The humans need feeding and everything that isn’t essential can wait until tomorrow.

Google hears his brothers speaking across the network but he isn’t actually reading any of the communications. His internal system is still trying to work through what he’s done. He always knew those two words would be used to make him do something awful but he always suspected it would be Dark forcing him to do something embarassing not something that tears at his emotional core. And where did that come from anyway? Didn’t he use to be an emotionless robot?

The latest in a series of error messages flags up but Google shuts it down and ignores it. It’s nothing that can’t wait, whatever it is.

Time ticks by, Bim and Silver returning with the food but the robots remain in place while the doctor goes to grab something.

All three droids are all watching as Bing’s eyes  _finally_  flicker open, blearily glancing around. Green sits up, Oliver squeezes his brother’s hand, and Google shifts as he asks, “Bing?”

“…Goog?” his voice is weak but it’s there.

Relief floods Google’s system and another error message flags up, filling his vision, but  _this_ time it’s not going to be ignored. There’s less than two seconds before Google’s system shuts down in an attempt to preserve as much of his system as it can. The blue droid slumps, glassy, vacant eyes staring at nothing as he falls backwards.

All of the Googles feel the sharp disconnect over their network. Red whips around to see Green desperately trying to wake their brother up. Bing’s apparently awake now and Oliver is trying to keep the cyborg from sitting up which is just making him panic.

“What?” Dr Iplier asks, glancing over to the sudden commotion. “What is it?”

“Google just blue-screened.”


	109. Back in the Building

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuck in the fire....

Chase blinks awake to a squirrel in his lap and startles, almost tumbling off of the branch he’s been dozing on.

“Careful!” King shouts, an arm stretched towards him. Chase may not stay dead but that doesn’t mean King is okay with him falling and dying.

They’re pretty high up in King’s trees. Apparently Mark can’t touch them, something about a deal and this being the safest place for them to be. Thing is, even stealing a glance at the ground makes Chase want to vomit. Flashes of a certain encounter on a rooftop that did not end well for him keep flashing through his mind and Chase would rather stay on the ground.

Chase gently pets the squirrel with one hand, rubbing sleep from his eye with the other. Apparently the squirrel is dozing on him, and the last thing he wants is to disrupt the poor little guy.

“What time is it?” he asks.

“Nearly sunset.”

King points to the horizon. The sun has gone down past the outer wall of the property but the sky looks like it’s on fire, red, orange, yellow streaking across the sky before melting into a very pale dark blue above them. That means it’s been a couple hours since the others left.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Chase asks.

“We egos are stubborn survivors.” As Chase looks over with a quizzical look, he sees a kind of false bravado on King’s face that kind of melts into a vague concern. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Hey!”

Both of them look down to see a well-dressed man stood a short away from the base of the tree they’ve climbed, his hands cupped around his mouth as he calls to the treetops.

“I have a message! From Mark!” Chase and King share a worried glance. “I’m not shouting this to the treetops!”

“Should we…?”

King shifts on his branch, looking this way and that, looking for any potential sneak attacks. There’s no sign of an ambush, so they’re probably okay. He clambers across the branches to help Chase down and orders the immortal to stay behind him.

When they finally touch down, Chase sees just how uncomfortable the well-dressed stranger looks. He’s holding himself, his hands looking strangely empty and his eyes seeming very tired as he speaks.

“Mark invites you both to join him and the Host for dinner. As his guests. No tricks.”

King is the one who answers, stood in front of Chase. “No thanks.”

The stranger sighs, his shoulders sagging before straightening up again and looking them straight in the eye.

“When I say he ‘ _invites_ ’ you, I’m being courteous. Mark says that if you’re not there he’s going to make the immortal learn the true meaning of the term, ‘fate worse than death’.”

As the threat is spoken, despite Phantom’s lacklustre delivery of it, a harsh wind blows past, going right through Chase who steps back. King doesn’t turn, though he reaches back, grabbing blindly for Chase’s forearm, holding the immortal firmly in place. It sounds hokey, like something out of a kid’s TV show but given everything he’s seen in these walls, Chase feels maybe laughing would just be dangerous.

“We’ll be there.” the dryad assures Phantom who glances between them before turrning and heading back to the building. They watch him go.

“Was that a smart idea?” Chase asks.

King sighs. “Probably not.”


	110. Making Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They need to fix Google.

Bing is laid on his side, staring at nothing. Everyone is gathered nearby, talking in what they probably think is hushed voices but a lot of them aren’t really very quiet at the best of times and Bing can still hear every word.

The Jims are sat next to him, each of them with a hand on Bing’s side, given the task of keeping the cyborg company while he ‘rests’. A word that everybody keeps using and Bing really wishes they would shut up with that. How can he rest? With King still in danger? With Google in some kind of trouble? With breathing really really hurting? The only reason he isn’t fighting is because it’s just so much easier to lay still and do nothing right now.

From what he gets so far, nobody knows what’s wrong with Google. And none of the other Googles can work on him in case it’s a virus, cause it’ll just infect them and make things worse. And they’re the only ones with anywhere near enough knowledge and experience to crack the droid open.

“There is  _one_  other option.” Natemare says. He sounds uncertain, as though he’s afraid of the other’s reaction.

“What?” says Bim.

“You could let Mad take a look.”

Bing closes his eyes. That’s another thing. Apparently Mad is somewhere around and Bing really wishes he didn’t have to think about that. He may be on the road to forgiving Mare for what happened but honestly, he doubts Mad even cares about what he did. The way Mare talks about him, Mad probably celebrated the horrific things that they put Bing through.

“We can’t trust him.” Silver says.

“Red?” Bim asks.

Seconds tick by and Bing just tries to focus on anything else but all there is in his head is the vision of Google smashing him against the table and strangling him, or Google breaking down. He almost wishes he could jump up and scream his frustration to the heavens but he barely has the energy to even lie here.

“I don’t see us having any other option.” Red’s got that weird layer to his voice. The one he gets when he’s on the edge of coco nuts bananas levels of mad. God, Red, Green, and Oliver. How are they handling all this?

Bing reaches to grab one of the Jims’ hands, and tugs it gently so the Jim leans over him as he mutters something to them. They give a knowing nod before getting to their feet, drawing the attention of everybody nearby by raising his hand.

They all look at him expectantly as he lowers his hand again.

“Bing says we  _have_ to save Google.” That’s it. And yet everybody seems to understand the unspoken element. That the priority here is to restore at least one of their strongest soldiers by any means necessary. Put aside their grudges, their aggravations, do what they must to save one of their own.

Bing continues to lay there and he swears he can feels everybody staring at him, and is actually grateful that he’s turned away right now. It’s bad enough things being the way they are without people being all judgey with him.

There are several moments of silence before Silver speaks up. “Red?”

The red droid folds his arms. He doesn’t like it, but there aren’t any other options. “We need to fix Google.”

Mare gives a firm nod. “I’ll go get him.” and he disappears.

A few tears roll down Bing’s cheeks. God he hates this.


	111. Dinner for Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner doesn't happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS - hints to alcoholism, death, severe loss, severe grief, depression, suicidal thoughts**
> 
>  
> 
> Please see end notes for a trigger free summary of this chapter.

As they walk into the room Chase feels King’s grip on his arm tighten. It seems he’s a tad protective, but when shit goes down in the madhouse you do not question someone who wants to keep you safe. In the middle of the room there’s a table with three place settings. The dryad turns, pulling Chase closer and away from their dinner host.

“Where’s the Host?” King asks. Mark passes beside them, ignoring the glaring as he moves to take his seat.

“He apologises that he couldn’t be with us tonight.” Mark smirks as he gestures to the seats on either side of him, firmly indicating that they need to sit down. “But believe me, he’s with us in spirit.”

Chase does not like the way he says that at all, but King just guides him to one of the seats before taking the other one for himself. Together they sit and Phantom brings out a plate of food for each of them.

As he places the third plate in front of Chase, Phantom stops. There’s something off, his eyes seeming glazed and distant and he turns, though he doesn’t meet Chase’s eyes before he rushes off. This is turning into the strangest dinner party Chase has ever been to.

**_Is it?_ **

His fork freezes part way to his plate when Chase’s eyes flutter, half-closing. A long-buried memory raises from the pits of his mind, dragged kicking and screaming into the light. He doesn’t want to look at it, he doesn’t want to remember, but his attempts to try and push it away do nothing.

... _Stacey served him with divorce papers two weeks ago. She’s moved out. She took the kids. Yet here they are. Here they sit, playing happy families and playing pretend that the world isn’t collapsing around their ears. Except they aren’t. Not for Stacey. He hears she got a promotion last week._

 _She’s wearing that beautiful shirt that she knows Chase has always loved to see her in. God it hurts so much. Why Stacey? The parents are smiling, and Chase is smiling and Stacey is smliing. They have to pretend everything’s okay. Stacey’s dad is sick. Really sick. The emotional distress could kill him, and Chase is still hopeless against his wife. He can’t say no to her. Never mind that he’s lying as he smiles. Never mind that all he wants to do is down that bottle of whiskey he knows is in the parent’s liquor cabinet_....

“Chase?”

Blinking, unable to open his eyes all the way, Chase struggles to raises his head. He can vaguely see someone sat across from him  but he can’t get his eyes to focus to make out the details. There’s someone there, and they’re calling out but he can’t hear them.

The voice is muffled and sounds like it’s coming from a mile away. He can just about make out the tone. They seem...angry, but it’s not directed at him. It takes him a while to realise that they’re talking to someone else. There’s someone else there.

Chase tries to turn his head, but an intense pressure pushes down on his mind and his eyes flutter closed as he slips from his chair onto the floor.

**_What about Chad?_ **

The voices around him just fall away as he’s forced to remember.

.... _There are so many sounds around him. Beeping, panic, loss, fear. And somewhere, somewhere out in those hallways Chad ~~Chad. Oh God, Chad~~  is fighting for his life._

_It’s ten minutes later when they come out. They’re sorry, but there’s nothing more they can do. Chad’s fiance, sat across from Chase breaks down and he watches as they scream._

_It was a dumb stunt. It was too ambitious. They should have stuck to the simple shtick. Trick shots, skate tricks, things that he could bounce back from. Chase should have fought harder. He should have put his foot down. No Chad. You’re not doing a stunt like this. But he didn’t. He went with it. And Chad’s gone._

_When he gets back home that night, the place is empty. He bins the schedule for the next four weeks that he and Chad drew up. As Chase catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he sees that he’s been crying, though he doesn’t really remember it._

_The first bottle of drink disappears quickly. It’s soon followed by another. And another. Chad’s gone. Stacey’s gone. The kids are gone. Chase doesn’t feel the pain. He did earlier, but now, now he just feels hollow, and undeserving and it’s the first time he remembers that he has a gun in a box in the back of his wardrobe.._.

“CHASE!”

**_Stay down._ **

Chase’s body isn’t responding to him any more as his mind sinks deeper. It’s all  _fine_. Everything’s  _fine_. Nobody wants him around any more. He can just lay here. He can just lay and do nothing and maybe he’ll stop.

Maybe at last he’ll stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Host is not present at dinner where some unknown force drags up some of Chase's worst memories and forces him to lose consciousness.  
> Memories include an awkward dinner with his ex-wife and her family and the loss of his best friend, Chad.


	112. On the Virge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virtual cookies to whoever finds the direct quote.

Chase isn’t waking up.

Something happened at dinner, though the details aren’t known. Whatever it is, whatever happened, there’s one thing that King knows, and  _that_  is that it’s Mark’s fault.

The maniac left them after he finished his food but neither of them had a chance to take a bite. And it’s taken a lot of energy to get Chase to the nearest bedroom, the poor guy having become a dead weight after whatever happened.

Nothing King is doing is waking Chase up from this…it’s not sleep. But it’s bad. Chase keeps shaking and crying and King honestly feels helpless because nothing he does is making a difference. All he can do is sit in this chair and wait, and hope he wakes up.

“He doesn’t look like royalty.” comes a voice from behind him, and King leaps to his feet, turning to see two strangers stood on the other side of the room. They have similar features but are clearly distinctive, one wearing a purple shirt, a black hoodie, and heavy eyeshadow, while the other is far more well kept, wearing a white shirt with gold trim, a red sash, and strapping leather boots.

Without pause, King raises his foot and kicks the chair at them, the one with the sash stepping in front of the other, kicking the chair away before pulling a sword from literally nowhere and wielding it valiantly, a look of determination on his face.

“Roman stop!” yells the hoodie-wearing stranger, hands raised to his head in panic and frustration.

“But he’s attacking us!” the one wearing the sash, Roman, replies, pointing at King with the sword.

“Can you blame him? Look at where we are!” the purple one gestures to the walls and Roman glances around before inclining his head. He frowns slightly defeated.

“I guess not.” The sword disappears back into the nowhere it was drawn from, but he scowls at King and stays firmly stood in front of the other one..

“Who the  _hell_  are you guys?!” King demands as he looks between them in confusion. Roman smirks, raising his arms in a dramatic pose, speaking with grandiose and pomposity.

“Who we are, dear mortal, is  _not_  a matter of importance.” he turns, careful to whip his hair just so as he gestures between the two of them. “Just know that  _we_  are here to help.” After a moment the dramatic pose drops as he mutters. “Though  _I_  still say being here is a mistake.”

“I get it,” the hoodie wearing one pushes aside Roman giving him a glare as he does so, “you don’t want me here, but I’m here now, and this is what I do.” He glances over to King, raising an eyebrow before pointing at him. “Also, he’s not mortal.”

“WHAT?!” Roman turns, peering at King for an uncomfortably long time, the dryad stepping back, closer to Chase under the critical gaze. Roman crosses his arms a look of fascination on his face. “Well I’ll be…”

The purple one steps forward, and when King crouches ready to pounce him, the stranger raises his hands to show he means no harm.

“It’s okay.” he holds one hand to his chest. “My name is Virgil. I can help.” King seems uncertain but stays in his defensive position, not sure what to trust. Virgil turns to call over his shoulder. “Little help?”

Roman has one arm wrapped around his torso, as he taps at his chin with his other hand. He shrugs before pointing to Virgil.

“He’s pretty good at what he does.” he offers.

Virgil scowls, “ _That’s_  your help?”

“This is what you do.” he says mockingly. “So do it.” Virgil turns, dismissively gesturing at the royal pain. He can deal with Roman later.

Virgil strides forward, and though the dryad is crouched ready to strike, there’s some kind of power that comes off this kid that fills him with the instinct to draw back. It’s like there’s a good deal more to him than his seemingly weak figure would suggest and despite the urge to protect, King just backs out of the way allowing Virgil to walk right up to the bedside.

King manages to give a mild protest as the purple guy reaches for Chase, firmly taking hold of him, placing his thumbs on either side of Chase’s forehead. Virgil’s eyes begin to glow a deep purple and as King watches, the tension just drips from Chase’s face, his whole body seemingly relaxing as Virgil does his thing. Roman is smirking as he watches.

After a few moments, Virgil closes his eyes and tilts his head, frowning. Roman frowns, stepping closer.

“What is it?”

“This doesn’t feel like Mark.” withdrawing his hands, he shakes them like he just washed them and stumbles back a little bit. “That’s Julien’s magic.”

Roman’s eyes go wide, straightening up and looking panicked.. “That is  _very_  not good.” He immediately crosses the room and seizes Virgil’s shoulder starting to drag him away. “Alright, Hot Topic, time to go!”

“Wait!” King latches onto Virgil’s arm, stopping their retreat in its tracks. “What do you mean! What’s going on! Who  _are_  you people!”

“That information is on a strictly need to know basis. And  _you_  don’t need to know!” Roman reaches to try and tear King’s fingers from Virgil’s arms but it appears the dryad has a pretty firm grip. “Let go!”

The panic is rolling off this dryad in waves. Fear for the future, fear for the man he’s the prisoner of, fear for his family, fear for the guy in the bed. It’s all bundling up into one big mess of ick that Virgil is finding harder and harder to ignore. He glances over his shoulder to look at Roman

“Don’t do it!” Roman warns him, his fingers still twisted in the fabric of his hoodie and firmly pulling to get him out of here. This place is not safe. No time to play tea parties and storytime.

Virgil turns back to King. “What do you know about Deities and Guardians?”

Roman scowls. “Why do you  _never_  listen to me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to risiskifi over on Tumblr for being my Roman beta for this chapter. I am very inexperienced at writing Roman and needed a little help.


	113. Mad Genius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's wrong with Google?

Mad insists on some level of privacy as he works on Google. They won’t let him take the defunct droid into any of the other rooms, but they agree to stand back while he works. The last thing he wants is a distraction from this once-in-a-lifetime, literally-never-going-to-come-around-again opportunity.

Mare pops over once or twice and says something but Mad is just consumed by the high level of technology that’s stuffing this chassis to the brim. He’s got his notebooks and writes down everything he sees, everything he finds. He’s got to find the problem but that’ll be impossible without the proper context!

It’s at least two hours later when Mad beckons them over. Silver, Bim, and Red walk up as Mad spins round, tossing a burnt out component to Silver who barely catches it.

“Good news is, I found the problem and it’s not a virus.” he’s wipes down his hands as he speaks and watches as they examine the part. Silver holds it up and turns it around, Bim looking at it in confusion while Red merely glances before turning to Mad

“So what’s wrong?”

“That,” Mad indicates the burnt-out part, “is Google’s emotional processor. Takes situational input, runs it through and produces appropriate emotional responses. Happiness, sadness, anger, outrage, despair, blah blah blah.”

“It isn’t supposed to look like  _this_  is it?” Bim asks.

“Bingo.” Mad snaps his fingers as he gives a wink. “See Cyberlife kind of hold the monopoly on the simulated emotions market. Google really made a good go of it but probably canned the IRL project before they could refine it. I’ve had my hands in a few cyberlife droids in my time, and let me tell you, this,” he points to the processor, “pales in comparison. Best guess, something happened that’s overloaded the processor and since it’s just spurting out nonsense, it’s been causing a series of errors that led to a critical shutdown.”

Red snatches the component from Silver’s fingers, not appreciating the display of such a private component, wrapping his fingers around it and scowling at Mad.

“So fix it.”

Mad chuckles. “Love to, big fella, but it’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fixing it is simple. Hell, I could even steal  _your_  processor and use that instead.” Silver goes to move forward but Bim holds him back and Mad chuckles at how easy it is to rile these idiots. “The problem is with the design of the processor. A straight out replacement will just burn out again and as much as I’d love to draw this out, I am  _not_  a one for repeating myself.  _But_ ,” he raises a finger to silence Silver as he goes to speak, “if I get my hands on a cyberlife droid I can construct a better processor. one that can process whatever has happened without self-desctructing and your little problem is over.”

They all share glances. None of the egos knew that Cyberlife droids were a thing, why would they? They had the Googles. So getting a hold of a Cyberlife droid is easier said than done, though Mad himself is in no immediate rush.

Silver looks to the prone form of Google behind Mad. “So Google’s out of comission?”

“I never said that.” Mad calls over his shoulder. “Wake up, Google.”

Google’s eyes snap open, glowing blue before fading as he pushes himself up. He seems a little groggy as he sits up, turning to see everybody staring at him with shocked faces. Except Mad who looks smug as anything.

Google frowns at all of them.

“What?”


	114. Deities and Guardians

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to risiskifi on tumblr for once again being my Roman consultant.

“So you’re a god?” King asks, confused.

“Kind of.” Virgil raises a hand, holding his fingers a short distance apart. “Like a little bit below that.”

King nods, kind of understanding before he points to Roman, stood to Virgil’s right, glancing nervously around the room, a frown firmly set on his face. “And  _he’s_ your protector?”

Roman turns, eyes aflame as he glares fiercely at the dryad and Virgil has to think fast, throwing his arm out to stop Roman from just launching at him.

“I am his  _Guardian_!” the weirdly dramatic sash-wearer shouts.

“Easy, Roman!”

“Capital gee Guardian!” Roman jabs a finger at King, just barely being held back by the Deity who glares at him and shoves him back. Finally getting the hint, Roman steps back, crossing his arms and turning to glance towards the doorway. “It’s an  _official_  title.” he mutters.

Rolling his eyes, but satisfied that the drama bomb isn’t about to detonate, Viirgil lowers his arm again. “We each have a specialty. Mine is anxiety.”

Roman mutters something about it being a gross oversimplification and Virgil scowls, commenting over his shoulder.

“I  _thought_ you wanted this to be brief.”

“What I  _want_  is for us to be gone already.” Roman gestures towards the door with his thumb.

“Then stop interrupting.” Roman opens his mouth about to protest but Virgil makes a firm silence gesture with his hand and Roman’s mouth audibly clops shut. Silenced, Roman’s eyes narrow as he glowers at Virgil. “Julien is Deity of the mind. Incredibly powerful and Mark was his Guardian. They were, uhm….”

Virgil struggles for the right word, raising his eyebrows as King points to Roman behind him. Turning the Deity sees the still silent, and clearly angered Roman, with one arm raised from his crossed arms as he glares at Virgil.

Unable to help the smirk on his lips, Virgil makes another gesture, allowing Roman to speak.

“They made Maleficient look like Merryweather.”

“That’s….” Virgil raises his finger to argue but as he thinks on it, “…surprisingly accurate actually.”

“I’m not just a pretty face.” Roman says smugly checking his nails and tugging gently at the cuffs of his shirt.

“So what happened?” King asks.

“Nobody knows.” Roman snorts but says nothing and Virgil glares clearly wanting to silence Roman again. “There were  _rumours_.” Virgils says forcefully. “Deities and their Guardians are bound together, and word was that Mark corrupted the bond and tried to take Julien’s power for himself.” The Deity gestures to the bed. “Your friend’s head is filled with Julien’s power.”

King turns to look at Chase, still slumbering but visibly calmer and doing visibly better than before. “But Mark’s the one who used it.”

“Exactly.”

Roman takes a firm grip of Virgil’s shoulder, making the purple kid leap from the sudden contact but he seems unperturbed as he pulls the Deity back. “Alright, Chatty Cathy, you told him. Now we are getting you out of here before Mark sniffs you out.”

“Wait.” King reaches out, not bothered by how mad Roman looks at yet another interruption. “What did you even do to him?” he gestures towards Chase.

“I don’t know what Mark did. I can’t undo it. But I was able to…..make it less scary.” Virgil slaps away Roman’s hold on him as the Guardian snorts again, breaking free and straightening himself out. 

“Look we can’t stay,” he says to King, “but we’ll be around.”

Roman smiles, seemingly satisfied that Virgil is finally  _finally_  doing what he says and getting ready to go. Still he pauses for a moment looking King of the Squirrels up and down, shaking his head. “I still don’t think he looks like royalty.”

Virgil rolls his eyes but says nothing, as Roman raises his arms in a dramatic gesture, and just like that, they’re gone.

King stands there for a moment processing everything they just told him.

“….I think I should probably sit down.”


	115. Sleepwalking yet again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is going on here....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the massive delays, I've been having various health issues the last couple weeks. Thanks again for being so patient.

“Stop.”

Bing startles awake, though his eyes stay closed as his brain slowly kicks into gear. There’s someone in front of him and he isn’t laid down anymore. Ah geez, is he sleepwalking again?

“Goog?” he mumbles groggily.

“I know what you’re doing.” there’s a firm hold on his elbows, holding him in place. Doesn’t Goog usually go for the shoulders?

“M’sleeping.”

The person shakes him. “I  _won’t_  let you hurt him.”

That doesn’t sound right, and there’s a slight slur to the words. And then reality hits Bing like a freight train. Google’s not working right, why on Earth would he care about Bing sleepwalking?

Tearing his eyes open, the cyborg blinks a few times to clear his vision. The large room is dark, it’s the middle of the night and everyone seems to be asleep, sprawled out in various positions around them.

Silver sprawled out on his back, Bim on his side. Naturally the Jims are wrapped around each other. Marvin’s over in the cornner; Anti insisted it was better to defend against intruders there. The Googles are all slumped in various positions over against the wall. Ed is asleep in one of the few chairs they managed to find, and the doc is curled up near one of the walls.Mad and Mare didn’t really stick around and Anti is glitching around the building, searching for possible threats.

Otherwise, it’s just Bing and Wilford, at the far end of the warehouse, surprisingly far from where Bing was sure he’d gone to sleep.

“What-?”

“Leave. Him. Alone.” Wilford gives another firm shake. “I know you can hear me.”

“It’s me, Wilford.” Bing is so tired right now. It’s been a long horrible day and honestly he just wants to curl up and forget the blank look on Google’s face when he’d tried to hug his brother. “I’m just Bing.”

“Don’t  _lie_  to me!” he snaps, giving another firm shake, and Bing flinches.

Something snaps, the angered look in Wilford’s eye is gone, and whatever it is he might think he’s seeing disappears, replaced by a battered boy on the verge of tears.

Without a thought Wilford, wraps his arms around Bing and pulls him close, the poor cyborg confused but not ungrateful for the gesture, kind of just melting into the hold, burying his head against Wilford’s shoulder and shaking with the urge to keep from crying.

“It’s okay.” Wilford assures him, holding tight, rubbing his hand against Bing’s back.

God they’ve lost so much today. Friends. Family. A buttwipe took their home from them and Bing doesn’t know that he can see them coming back from this. No Dark, no Google, no Host, working with Mad of all people and hiding away in a warehouse. What are they going to do?

“Come on.” Wilford turns Bing around and walks him back towards the others. “Let’s get you some rest.”

Bing is so tired.


	116. Rescue Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bing wants to enter the lions den.

“Y’all can go get yo’self killed if y’want.” Ed jabs an angry finger at the others, before sitting his ass firmly down in the chair he dragged from another room. “I ent movin’ one step from this here seat.”

Everyone stares at him.

“So that’s a no from Ed.” Silver comments. He glances around. “Anybody else?”

There’s a rescue party being put together, an idea that many of the group are not very happy with. It’s got to be a small group, so they can be undetected, and can’t leave those who stay behind unprotected.

Bim is going, able to get everybody there and back, leaving Wilford to stay behind in case of sudden ambush. He’s a bit more coherent this morning and vastly stronger, he’ll be able to move everyone in just one jump, no problem at all. Marvin has also volunteered, a decision that Anti has made sure everybody knows he is not happy about. Naturally it means that the glitch is going too.

Silver wants to go, but Bim has put his foot down and said no. Despite his self-sacrificial tendencies, the hero has proven himself to be good in a crisis and he’ll be better staying behind.

Dr Iplier and the Jims are not for it, and Google would be a liability, while none of the others are willing to leave him. Nobody has seen Mad or Mare since they woke up and nobody is really that inclined to go chasing after them.

And then there’s Bing.

“I want to go.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Bim looks uncertain. It’s been less than a day since Bing got attacked, his neck is still bruised, and Wilford told him about the night time wandering.

“But I need to see King.”

“Bim’s going to be checking in with  _everyone_. King included.” Silver has no uncertainties. Bing is not ready to be rushing off playing hero. “Besides King made a deal.” there’s a slight touch of resentment in the hero’s voice at that. He’s clearly still annoyed about it but he says nothing else towards that. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“But I-!”

“I said  _no_!”

Bim claps his hands, having no table to slam them down on, drawing both their attentions to him. He isn’t mad, but is wearing a small smile.

“Bing can you give us a moment?” The cyborg looks between the two of them before he draws away, arms folded.

The second the kid is out of earshot, Silver speaks. “He’s  _not_  going.”

“Tobi-”

“He’s a klutz, he was strangled, he’s going to run off.”

“So you want to confine him to the warehouse with his emotionally absent older brother, the man who  _kidnapped_  and  _dismantled_  him, and  _without_  his best friend?”

They’ve all noticed that Bing’s been purposefully avoiding Mad, and after the awkward encounter with an emotionless Google, the cyborg is just drawing away from everyone.

“He’ll be a liability.”

“So will Marvin and Anti.” Bim glances over to the cyborg before turning his back so the kid won’t see him speak. “You know if we leave him behind, he’ll try to follow us.”

He’s impulsive, emotionally compromised, and was unconscious through everything that went down. Probably done some impressive mental gymnastics to pin all this on himself and it stands to reason that Bing would want to see his best friend.

“He’s a determined kid. He’s shown he’s capable of stepping up. If you give him a chance, I’m sure he’ll surprise you.”

Silver is quiet for a long time, turning everything over in his head and Bim watches, waiting for the hero to swallow his pride and agree with him.

Sure enough, “If he runs off on you, I’m going to say ‘I told you so’.”

Bim smirks.

* * *


	117. The Belly of the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Re-entering that building, can you really trust what you see?

The door to Dark’s office is missing.

Naturally Anti, the king of not walking more than two steps if he can avoid it, doesn’t notice, even as Marvin runs his fingers along it. There was definitely a door there before. and there’s something, some kind of magic that’s hiding it or erased it or something. Whatever is in this room, it feels hollow, dark, empty; that feeling of someone walking over your grave. Vast, imposing, overbearing. And somewhere in there is probably Dark.

As he steps back, Marvin raises his hands, gesturing for Anti to move away which the glitch does with a grumble. Sparks of blue magic dance around Marvin’s fingers, flaring into a consuming blast of power that he runs across the wall. There has got to be some way in here. Some kind of opening, or fault-line, or just something he can crack open.

Seconds tick by into minutes and as Anti’s giggling starts to get louder and more out of control, Marvin, frustrated, drops his hands and turns to glare at his brother.

“Have you got a  _better_  idea?”

“A͘l̵most a͡lwa̧ys͞.͝”  Anti takes a firm hold of Marvin’s shoulder, the air around them crackling, sparking and splitting around them as he glitches them past the wall

Marvin fights the urge to throw up, not being as seasoned at glitching as his brother, while Anti folds his arm, looking on with an arrogant smugness that Marvin could really do without right now.

This room is supposed to be Dark’s office but there’s no furniture. There’s no walls, no anything, just an endless blackness stretching out in all directions around them. Like when Dark’s aura fills all corners of the room, the physics of the room are gone. But that hollow feeling from before is ten times stronger in here. It’s like Dark’s aura except where that leaves a cold feeling, this just leaves….nothing.

A short distance away stands a figure. That familiar grey suit, that familar grey skin, that unmistakable distortion. Marvin runs towards him without thinking even as he hears Anti shout for him to stop.

As Marvin gets closer, he can see him. Dark! He’s okay! He’s really-!

Marvin’s arm is grabbed and almost torn from his shoulder, as Anti grabs onto his arm with both hands, sharpened nails digging into his skin in a desperate attempt to get him to stop.

“Anti! What are you-?” the words die on the magician’s lips. Anti’s eyes are pitch black, his entire body fritzing and glitching as he holds his brother firmly in place. He’s clearly fighting to remain stable as he glares angrily at that thing in the middle of the emptiness. “Anti?”

“ **Marvin…** ” The figure raises an arm towards them, his grin turning more sinister, the air around him starting to twist and distort as he calls out for the magician to come closer

Anti tugs harsher on his brother’s arm, refusing to let go as he grits out from between tightly clenched teeth.

“ **T͡ḩa̧͢͏t̕͞'͝s͢͡ ̡͞no͏t̶̢ ͞͡Dar̡͠ķ̡.͢** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I slipped, fell, cut my leg and have been struggling with inspiration lately.
> 
> So I've started a new spin-off starring Madpat, Natemare, Abe the Detective. It takes heavy influence from Escape the Night series 1 through 3 but will also include inspiration from Wilford Motherloving Warfstache, and Bendy and the Ink Machine. If you're interested then please, check out Escape the Motherloving Nightmare.


	118. Does This Count As A Fusion?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twins working in Tandem

He doesn’t know what that thing is. It looks like that weird grey guy that his brother gets goo-goo eyes over but there’s waves of wrong just peeling off of it. And there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let his baby brother go near it. Because you know that Anti takes that extra twenty minutes very seriously.

“Anti,  _please_.”  As Marvin pulls on his hand again, Anti just clings tighter, his nails digging into the skin making the magician wince.

“D҉o y̸ou ͢ţru͝st ͞me?”

A dangerous question given the nature of what he’s become and some of the things that he’s done, but if there’s ever been a moment Marvin needs to trust him, it’s now.

“Anti, it’s-!”

He feels it shift before it actually does, the ripples of wrong just wrapping tighter as Anti doesn’t wait for the full response, jumping in his brother and throwing out a strange pulse of…..well there’s a lot of things about himself and his abilities that he still doesn’t get, but it’s just in time as a wave of blackness washes over them and attempts to crush Marvin.

_A-Anti!! W-what…!? What…?!_

Marvin’s mind is a mess of panic, his heart racing too fast as his body tries to compensate for the two of them within it. Anti is strangely focused and soothes his brother, bringing that heartrate down as much as he can. The last thing they need is for that heart to just straight up leap from the magician’s chest.

**Tr̸͞ust̴̶ ̧̡m̛e.̕**

Marvin’s arm raises small veins of magic floating along his forearm as he raises it. Where Marvin’s magic is usually blue, this magic is green, Anti guiding the power to the hand, gathering at the arm and forming into some kind of blade that together the Blake twins raise into the air before Anti swings it down, tearing the strange non-corporeal sword through the air.

The grey monster before them shatters, the air clearing to reveal Dark, unconscious on the floor. The  _real_  Dark. Nobody else in existence has that undeniable stale, hollow, too-much-eyeliner feel to them.

Marvin’s anger at whatever the hell just happened dissipates and he stares in shock, turning as Anti, smug as anything, appears again beside him. The glitch smirks and folds his arms looking over at Dark.

“I͘ ͏t͟old͟ yo̵u.”


	119. Take Your Base

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final piece falls into place....

There’s a lot going on at the moment. I mean the last time Bing had seen his best friend, everything had been about to go really really wrong. And the last time King had seen him…. 

Bing tries so hard not to take it personally when King rushes to Bim instead of him, talking about Chase not waking up, about some strangers, about the Host. As the two of them rush to the poor immortal dude who looks really less than hot right now, Bing falls back. They don’t need him.

_You could finally help them._

Bim does what he can but seems at a loss, while King looks like he hasn’t slept or gone outside in a long while. The two of them are talking about some kind of god thing or something and Bing glances, more than once, towards the door.

Sure he wanted to check in with King, though the dryad seems a little preoccupied, but Bing has something of an ulterior motive for coming back. There’s something within these four walls that can stop this. Can end it all now, and that little naggy voice is whispering in his ear, pushing him to go and find it.

He first heard it around when the sleepwalking first started. Just a voice, nothing more. It wasn’t loud or angry, it just whispered, pointing out a few hard to swallow home truths. It said something was coming, it said that things were going to fall apart. It pointed out how little he contributes to the building, how everything is just bad, but he can make it right. But not on his own.

_I know you know where it is._

None of them notice as as he slips out the door, rushing through the corridor, heading towards his room.The voice says if he can find this thing, that it will make everything better. Google will be back to normal, everyone will be safe, no one will be in danger. His family will be home and things will be the way they’re supposed to be.

He pushes open the door to his bedroom, the exact same messy state he left it in before he went to that meeting. It should be in here. Maybe it fell under the bed?

There’s a price to pay for it, but at this point, it’s barely even a price. I mean who’s going to care? Bing has proven himself to be little more than a liability. A hazard. A danger. There’s nothing he can do right and as he crouches down to reach under the bed, he knows that this will change everything. And there’s no one to stop him.

Or so he thinks, as the sound of approaching footsteps precede the door getting thrown open, an exhausted and exasperated Bim stood in the doorway, shouting the cyborg’s name!

But it’s too late. Bing’s left hand wraps around the baseball bat, and he slowly raises to his feet, tilting his head at Bim.

“Oh look.” he raises the baseball bat to point at the TV show host, his face twisting into an uncharacteristic smirk. “Just what I need.”


	120. A Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark is starting to feel the squeeze.

Julien is thrown to the floor, the wind knocked from his lungs as Mark looms over him.

“What did you do!” Mark’s usually cool mask of control has broken to reveal a very scared man underneath, lashing out in anger. He bends down to grab Julien’s jacket and barely holds back from screaming in his face. “What did you do!”

Both of them felt it, not a physical change but a spiritual one. A cosmic shift in the alignment of the universe. Something has happened. And Julien won’t stop smirking that same damn smirk that means he’s planning something. He knows about this, he knows! And once Mark has beaten the crap out of him, Mark will know too.

Mark swings Phantom’s cane at him, the large globe cracking into the side of Julien’s head, making a satisfying crunch and wiping that damn smile from his face. The dealmaker is watching them from the shadows, but the boy knows better than to get involved.

The cane is raised once more, ready to come down on the smug asshole when something unseen tugs harshly on it. Mark turns as the cane is finally torn from his grip, flying across the room into the waiting hand of…. “Bing?”

That same scruffy hair, same moronic glasses, but that doofish attitude is gone, replaced by a smug self-confidence.  From Bing’s right hand hangs a disturbingly familiar baseball bat, softly swinging to and fro at his side, and his smirk is unmistakable as he looks at the cane turning it over in his hands.

“Now Mark,” he says tilting his head, “you know this doesn’t belong to  _you_.”

A tentative Phantom steps from his shadowy hidey-hole and stares in utter shock. “….Author?”

Mark glares at the cyborg before them, “‘The Author’ is dead.”

‘Bing’ tilts his head, lips drawing up into a knowing smirk, that almost perfectly matches Julien’s,“ _Is_  he though?”

Bing holds out the cane towards Phantom waiting for the boy to take it. Though the dealmaker stares in shock for a moment, he soon reaches forwaard, fingers curling around the cane as a chill wind blows around them.

Mark shouts as Phantom takes the cane, moving to stop him but frozen in place as Julien mutters his narrations, holding the asshole still.

“Hey Mark,” ‘Bing’ smirks, raising the bat and pointing it directly at Mark’s chest, “Guardianship revoked.”

_Shit!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have been recovering from my leg injury and honestly wasn't doing that well mentally. Hopefully I'm over that, and can get back in the swing of things.


	121. Long Born Grudge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should never outsource your dickhead removals. It never ends well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has been being worked on for two weeks and I honestly still think it looks like trash. I have been reassured that it's not and I want to post something for all you lovely patient people.
> 
> For anyone who's curious, my leg is doing well.

As every last drop of Julien’s power is drawn from his body, Mark collapses to the floor, unconscious, and the Author steps forward to poke at the prone form with his bat. How many years has he spent afraid of this…thing? How long has he cowered in fear, stuck in the shadow of lesser beings, too afraid to stand on his own two feet and kick this pitiful creature to the curb like they all know that he can?

Too long. No more.

Drawing back his foot, the Host cries out for him to stop, but the Author swings it forward with force, and there’s a crunch as he breaks Mark’s nose with a swift kick to the face. Oooh, that felt good.

“Why did you do that?” The Host cries.

The Author turns. The Host is still on the floor, blood dripping down his cheeks from his bandages as he stares at their common enemy. Ah, himself, his ‘future’ self, his ‘evolved’ self, his  _weaker_ self. It looks like the Host still has some of that pesky cowardice that’s been holding him back all these years. Oh well, it doesn’t matter any more.

“Why didn’t  _you_?” Stepping forward, the Author crouches down, peering at the wretched being before him. To think. This used to be him. Ha! “All that power knocking about in your brain and you have to call on  _me_ , and sell out one of your so-called friends in order to actually do anything.”

The Host opens his mouth, about to speak again but the Author places a firm hand over it, holding it closed.

“We both know, there’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought of. And then ignored.”

“Author?” comes the voice of the one other person in the room. Phantom. His very first character. A boy born of passion and promise and ideas. So much potential, and all of it wasted because of  _Mark_. Just thinking of it makes the Author’s borrowed blood boil.

“It’s been a while.” Rising to his feet, the Author turns, tilting his head with a smirk. “Is it just me, or are you taller?”

Phantom stands his ground, hands twisting slightly around his recently recovered cane as he looks between the chaos before him. Strong, steadfast, resolute. There’s a hint of who Author intended him to be there but it’s flattened, buried beneath what the scumbags on the floor put him through.

“What’s happening?” The dealmaker asks.

“What should have happened from the beginning.” Turning, the Author sneers at the Host and Mark. Unworthy, unbearable. But still, maybe they can be of some use. “You were meant to be so much more than these shitheads allowed. And nothing is going to stop us from making sure you reach your true potential.”

Phantom looks to his cane before surveying those before him. He remembers the Author, his chaotic madness, his single-mindedness. Working with that was not going to be fun, but he has that spark in his eye, the one where he has a idea that the devil himself couldn’t keep him from. But maybe the devil isn’t needed…

‘Capable of great things’, that’s what he says. Maybe he is. Maybe Mark’s wrong. Maybe there’s a way Phantom can play this, a way to play them all.

Phantom holds his cane in one hand as he gives a slight sweeping bow, a long-missing smirk playing at his lips as he holds the Author’s gaze.

“Tell me what you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made some character boards.
> 
> [ Madpat](https://mxdpat.tumblr.com/post/177564652134/lucas-mad-patrick-inkfected-protection-verse) \- [Phantom ](https://justaphxntom.tumblr.com/post/178321692685/phantom-deal-maker-created-by-the-author) \- [Natemare](https://natemxre.tumblr.com/post/179693152149/natemare-vengeful-spirit-protection-verse)
> 
>  
> 
> Feel free to give them a look.


	122. Voices In My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ....but the loudest one ain't mine.

It’s Bing’s room. Well, fundamentally.

The lonely, always messy single bed pushed into the corner, the three or four consoles that hook into his old television. He’d never been able to get into the whole flat screen thing. Maybe for the TV room but not for him. There’s one book case filled with books, though all of the spines are blank and don’t look as though they’ve been touched in a long while.

Various trinkets are dotted around the room, a plush squirrel here, a magic 8-ball there, two of those waving lucky cat figures. They seem random, but after clocking a few of them, Phantom realises that each one of them is probably meant to represent one of the boy’s friends.

Bing himself is sitting on the bed, feet up on it, his knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around them as he stares off into space. His typical glasses are missing, and his hair is a bit of a mess. It’s disconcerting to see the cyborg so…quiet.

Placing his cane aside, a show of laying down his weapons, Phantom steps forward. “Bing?”

The cyborg blinks, glancing up. There is clearly definitely something very wrong with him, a kind of lost spark in his eyes.

“….You’re not the Author.”

“I’m Phantom.”

“That door doesn’t open.” Bing glances over to it. It doesn’t close either, stuck in the state of being partially ajar, no matter how hard someone might push at it. not that anyone does.

“I know a back entrance.” Being of the Author’s mind comes with certain privileges, even when it’s not within the Author’s body. The dealmaker strides to the bedside table, picking up an old photo of Bing with a woman who must be  his mother. He looks a fair bit younger in it, though fundamentally the same. How long ago was this photo taken? “The Author isn’t going to let you out again.”

“I know.”

“You could fight him. You’d probably be able to beat him.” Bing turns, purposefully glancing away and Phantom sighs, putting the photo down again. “You’re stronger than you think Bing.”

“I promised I wouldnt let anyone use those words against him.” You don’t need any kind of special powers to see the heavy weight bearing down on Bing. The Author doesn’t need to keep the boy in line because the guilt from what happened is doing the job for him. "I’m  _useless_. The Author-”

“The Author is twisting this to his advantage.” Phantom interrupts, “He doesn’t care about you,  _or_ your family.”

“Did he stop Mark?”

Phantom doesn’t answer. he doesn’t need to. They both know the answer and the truth isn’t going to bring back the Bing the dealmaker would recognise from the months of watching the building. Slowly, he makes his way towards the door, stopping at the end of the bed and turning.

“I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll let your friends leave. I’ll do what I can to protect them. I’ll even get Google fixed. When I’ve done that,” he points at Bing, “ _you_  have to fight the Author.”

Bing shuffles on the bed. “ _If_  you do that.”

“No,” Phantom picks up his cane, swinging it around in his fingers as he turns back, a smirk playing at his lips, “ _When_.” And with that, he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fist pumps at the Be More Chill Reference*
> 
> Oh yeah!


	123. King Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dryad finds out something that's not good to hear.

King has never been what you would call a social creature. A few centuries living on your own, focused solely on preserving the trees that are your lifeblood against the unrelenting development of civilisation, and joining what could be lovingly described as an utter madhouse, will do that to you.

When he’d moved in, the whole King of the Squirrels thing was to keep all those weirdos away from him. After losing an unending series of legal battles between fat cat politician types, and environmental weirdos who seemed a fair bit more interested in their own image than the actual outcome, King was more than happy to spend the next fifty years keeping to himself. And everyone else seemed to be okay with that.

Then Bing had moved in. Much like the Jims, he was extroverted, outgoing, very energetic and to be frank, tiring to watch. King kept clear though the kid would always wave at him and give a big doofy grin whenever he passed by.

Their friendship came to fruition one weird November night when Bing came kicking at King’s door, his hands carefully cradling an injured bat, tears dripping down his face. Apparently nobody else in the building cared about the poor little dude and Bing didn’t know the first thing about caring for an animal. Over the next two weeks, the two of them spent every day helping the little guy to get better until he was finally able to flap on his way again.

Turned out that sure, Bing was everything King had expected but that wasn’t  _all_  he was. He was a big sap with a love for giving everything a go, who wanted to do what’s best for everyone whenever possible, and made sure no one ever got left out. He was extroverted, but he was open-minded, he was a klutz, but he was imaginative, and though he was a little self-centred he was always well-meaning. Until recently, King and Bing had been nigh-on inseparable and the dryad can’t imagine how he got by without the dork.

So King knows, he  _knows_ , that the person stood at the head of the bed, eyes closed in concentration, one hand on either side of Chase’s head is not Bing. Sure he looks like Bing, is wearing Bing’s trademark outfit, complete with his iconic sunglasses and tank top, but the way he moves, the way he smirks, the complete silence. Just everything about it is wrong and this is  _not Bing_.

Still he remains silent as Chase’s eyes finally flutter open, moving only as ‘Bing’ moves to leave, snatching this imposter’s arm and tugging firmly, holding tight to keep him in place.

“Who?” is all he says.

‘Bing’ pauses, turning back to look at the dryad before reaching with Bing’s human hand to press his thumb against King’s forehead, the dryad’s grip loosening in shock as the image of one person fills his mind.

“Who else?” ‘Bing’ doesn’t pull away but calls to the shadows, Phantom stepping from them. The dealmaker raises his cane and the globe begins to glow with his getting-to-be-too-familiar deep red power.

Chase yelps, but King doesn’t flinch as the air around them crackles and sparks with strangely familiar magic. A great weight lifts from both their shoulders as the power holding them in the building is erased.

“Give my love to Dark.” ‘Bing’ says directly to King as he and the world around them fizzles away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've hit my stride and got a fair few updates lined up. Really missed sharing things. Thanks to everybody for being so patient with me.


	124. Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark's awake....

Dark winces as the shouting trying to drag him up gets louder, his mouth opening to tell whoever is up this early to shut up, but no sound comes out, his throat dry, his body weak. There’s a hand on his forehead that feels surprisingly cool, and another stronger one grasping just above his wrist.

“Come on, old boy.” comes a familiar voice. Wilford.

It takes too much effort to tear his eyes open, blinking against the sudden brightness and confusion that comes with it. Wilford looks defeated, tired and worn in a way that Dark hasn’t seen in years, the hand grasping his wrist firm and unwavering. To the other side sits Marvin, that annoying glitch a short way behind him, purposefully not paying them any attention. It’s the magician’s hand that sits on Dark’s forehead and if he closes his eyes again he can almost feel this steady stream of magic pouring into him from where they’re touching, refreshing and cool, like a calm stream running straight through his aching broken body.

Wilford tugs at his wrist as he sees Dark waver again. “Hey now. No time for a nap.”

“Gentle, Wilford.” Marvin warns. It’s probably not the first time he’s had to say it.

“What….?” Dark manages to croak before Marvin’s hand moves to cover his mouth.

“Ssssh.” he hushes. The magic is still flowing, the cool power rushing down his throat, soothing it but not making it go away.

“There’s been a few casualties.” Wilford tries to explain, glancing over his shoulder to the corner where the Googles have retreated, doing their best to keep their brother from the others. Everyone is worried for how he may react to the others without his emotional processor, no one more than Oliver.

Around the room, various members of the ‘rescue party’ are laid out, worrying, or recovering from their encounters in the building, Silver focused on Bim who of course is blaming everything on himself, while the Host is trying adamantly to get the Doc to stop fussing over him. The Jims sit to the side, closer to Ed, the three of them honestly a bit overwhelmed by everything that’s happened.

“How did-?” Dark tries to ask but Marvin gently slaps him on the cheek.

“Stop trying to talk.” his voice is firm, and he’s starting to look tired as well. It’s like fatigue is starting to sink into everybody over everything. “Or I’ll let Anti beat the crap out of you.”

The glitch perks up at the promise of possibly hurting Dark, giving a smug smirk over Marvin’s shoulder but saying nothing, even him being able to sense the gravity of their group’s current situation.

Everyone jumps as the air crackles for a brief moment with red sparks before King of the Squirrels and Chase Brody simply appear, King standing taller than anyone remembers having seen him stand, Chase looking as shit as Dark feels, but maybe a bit more mobile, cradling his head and confused as fuck.

“That’s everyone.” Says Marvin. Something similar had happened to the rest of them, magic surrounding them and ejecting them from the building, sending them back here. Wilford’s grip on Dark’s wrist tightens slightly.

“Everyone except Bing.”


	125. Host's Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

“LET ME GO!!”

The Host reaches to his mouth, feeling blood on his lips. King of the Squirrels took a fierce swing and knocked him to the ground and the man’s anger is coming off him in waves, pulsing out into every corner of the room. Beside the Host, Dr Iplier is trying to get a better look, but the Host easily waves him back.

Wilford is stood before the dryad, using every ounce of strength he still has, while Silver’s arms are locked around King’s shoulders. Together they are barely able to keep him back and are shouting for him to stop.

“HE DID THIS!!” King spits towards the Host. He may have only got in one punch but the Host knows that if he has his way, King will attempt to kill him. He is angry. Understandably so, but the Host is not sorry for what he has done.

Reaching out, he takes the doctor’s hand, pulling himself to his feet and standing firm, setting his chin and scowling as he faces King.

“The Host did what  _had_  to be done.”

The small group lurches as King’s rage grows and he tries again to throw himself at the Host.

“What are you talking about!”

“SAY IT!!” King screams, his words drowning out everybody else, “TELL THEM WHAT YOU DID!”

Amidst the rage, the Host feels everyone’s eyes and focus turn to him, but he doesn’t waver. He will not apologise for this.

“Mark had to be stopped.”

He feels Wilford’s resolve weaken, though he doesn’t move out of the way. “Julien?”

“Bing knew what he was doing. He  _chose_  to-”

Of course he sees the fist connect before it does, but in trying to react before it happens, it manages to catch him unawares. Wilford’s fist has a lot less sheer anger behind it but from the crunching sound as it connects, it’s probably broken his nose.

“Ev̨erybody cal̷m̸ ̕t̴h̴e͝ **F̷̨U̵͜͡CK̢͟**  d͡own̴!”

The Host tilts his head. That glitchy broken voice can belong to no one but Anti but as he looks at where it came from, as he reaches out to sense, as he tries to ‘see’, there is nothing there. It’s an empty space, a distinct lack of anything in space. Barely perceptible and impossible to follow, or truly perceive. He’s never actually paid any real attention to Anti before this moment, and he gets a brief sense that he may come to regret that in the future.

Feeling truly blind for the first time in a long while, the Host reaches for the doctor, taking his hand and looking through his friend’s eyes. Wilford and Silver are still fighting to keep King back, the dryad’s eyes practically aflame with his anger, and in the middle, arms thrown to either side, stands Anti.

“Th͜is҉ ̶i͝s jus̕t̢ w͡hat ͝tha̵t **sh͠i̧͟͝t͜͜**  wa̧nt͘s u̷s̛ ̧t̢o ̸do.”

“Mark, or the Host?” Wilford asks.

“Fuck you!” The Host shouts at the pink ass.

Anti glitches violently and screeches. “ **I̷T̴͝ DƠE̡S̡N̕͡’T̵̛͠ ̢M͘A̕T͠͏T͏͏͢Ȩ͏͏R**!!” The sound is piercing and everyone winces, reaching to cover their ears. “Be͡at̢in͞g͝ t̨h͟e ̛snot out ͡of̛ bambi,” Anti gestures towards the Host, “isn͠’t̵ ̧goi͠ng t̢o̡ ͠g҉et ͠y̵our ͡f͠ri͏e͢n͞d back̡. So d̷ǫn’t ͠was͢ţe̷ ̡yo͘ur t͜i͢m͡e̢.”

Having seen enough, the Host lets go of his hold on the doctor’s hand, having had a very distinct look into his best friend’s head. It would seem everybody is wary of him now. He will have to be careful.


	126. You Can Never Trust The Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wait, what?! No! You can't do this! No!!

Mark is laid on the floor, blank and unmoving like a sack of potatoes. He is empty. Completely devoid of any hope. He could almost feel her hand in his but it’s gone. Without Julien’s power, without Phantom’s allegiance, he has no chance of ever getting her back.

It’s over.

His chest spasms as a swift kick connects with his back and Mark coughs in reflex. He doesn’t move. The pain doesn’t matter. It’s nothing in comparison to what he feels inside.

“Get  _up_ ,you pathetic sock puppet.” It sounds like that cyborg, which means it’s Author. Probably here to gloat, as he always has. To rub his victory, to rub his new found independence in to Mark’s far prettier face. I suppose there are some things that never change.

“Leave me alone to die in peace.” Mark grumbles.

“Always with the freaking melodrama.” There’s another kick, harsher this time, and Mark yelps. That was a little harder to ignore. “ _Get. Up_.”

Mark doesn’t move, staying in place, unmoving, self-pitying, resigned to the loss and isolation that settles deep within his soul. With a roll of his eyes, Author kneels down beside the actor, harshly grabbing at Mark’s hair and pulling the pitiful worm off the floor, turning him and  forcing him to finally make eye contact.

“I am trying  _very_  hard to be nice, and  _not_  shred what’s left of your miserable soul into a million pieces.”

Forced to look up at the Author, Mark can’t help the shiver that rolls down his spine. A thousand memories of the ‘good ol’ days’ when Author would frequently beat the crap out of the people who would stand in their way flit across Mark’s memories. A mixture of fear and nostalgia laces each one because as fun as it was, Mark always knew he was one wrong move from winding up on the chopping block.

“Now. Get. Up. We have work to do.”

Phantom, to this point hanging back in the shadows, steps forward, concern on his face his mouth opening to protest, but before a word even breaks out, Author raises his left hand, making a hushing gesture and forcing his character to be silent.

“Not now.” he barely turns as he warns Phantom to butt out.

Mark glares, lips curling into a sneer,. “Start making sense, you pretentious dickweed.”

“If you want her back, you  _need_  me. And yet you never once thought to just  _ask_ for my help.”

Mark scowls. It’s not like he hadn’t wanted to but Julien had quickly gone underground, hiding among those traitors, using them, using his own powers to hide himself away where Mark would never be able to touch him. Or so the Host had thought.

“You weren’t exactly across the dorm.”

“….Technically true. But I’m better than that old fart.” Mark snorts. These juvenile insults are starting to get a little bit hilarious.

The Author scowls, grabbing Mark as roughly as he can manage and dragging the actor to his feet. “All of the power, none of the fear. Not what the mouse intended, but I’m sure you’ll agree, better for everyone involved.”

Mark reaches up to rub tiredly at his eyes. Julien has always had to be a pompous ass when it came to talking. Why say one word clear as day when you can say fifty and use an unclear metaphor at the same time?

“Are you saying you’ll help me get her back?”

“Give me 48 hours, and it’ll be like she was never away from your side.”

That soon? Two days? The weight of failure lifts from Mark’s shoulder and he takes a firm grip of the Author’s arms.

“Yes.” He  cries eagerly, giving the Author a firm shake in excitement. “Yes!” He stops after a moment, tilting his head slightly as he stares at the Author. “Julien, I can’t take you seriously in those glasses.”

Reaching up, the Author pulls the bright orange sunglasses from his face. He’s not a big fan of them, it’s just not occurred to him that he has no reason to wear them. Everybody knows that Bing’s gone. No need to pretend any more. It takes just a simple twist and they snap in half, one in each of his hands before they tumble to the floor. As he runs his hand through Bing’s unkempt hair, the Author smirks.

It feels good to be free.


	127. Little Bit of Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need a little bit of normal.

“This is all my-”

“No.” Silver cuts across Bim before the sentence has a chance to fully leave his mouth.

“But I was the reason Bin-”

“No.”

“But-”

“No.” He’s firm and unwavering and honestly willing to keep this going as long as he has to. “No matter what you say, it won’t make this your fault.”

“But-!”

“No!”

Frustrated, Bim turns, fingers fidgeting, small purple sparks flickering between them as he thinks. Mind caught in a vicious cycle of self-blame. Silver watches him and honestly can’t help but to smirk as he folds his own arms across his chest

“I can  _hear_ you blaming yourself.” the hero snarks.

Bim shoots an annoyed look at Silver as his own words are used against him. A line he frequently uses when the Silver superhero blames himself for things that are out of his control.

“That’s not funny.”

Silver gives a half-shrug, “I don’t know, I think it’s pretty hilarious.”

A harsh buzz interrupts them, and Bim pulls out his phone, only giving it a brief glance before sighing and putting it away again.

“Matthias?”

“It’s nothing.” Bim waves a hand dismissively. There’s been several calls, and numerous texts over the last 24 hours, all of which have gone ignored. “He can wait.”

“You probably shouldn’t ignore him.”

“I’ve got bigger things to deal with right now.”

Silver glances around the room.

The Googles are off in their corner, the Jims, Marvin, and Wilford all talking with Dark who’s yet to even sit up, let alone stand. Anti is bothering Ed, since he’s run out of other people to annoy, King has stormed off into a corner where he’s pacing back and forth, angrily muttering to himself, and the Host is sat on the farthest end of the warehouse, legs crossed, silent and unmoving.

Everyone is a mess and if they want to avoid complete bedlam, Bim and Silver are going to have to step up to fill the void in leadership. They may be no Dark and Wilford but they  _are_  the most level-headed of these idiots,  good at working together, and able to balance out when things get overwhelming. No doubt together they can keep an eye on this mess, build a plan of action, stop anyone else from wandering off.

Reaching up, Silver gently guides Bim to turn away from them, the TV show host having turned to look.

“Call Matthias.”

“Tobi-”

“The madness isn’t going to go anywhere for a few hours. Go and see someone who doesn’t need you to do everything for them. Have a drink, have a laugh.”

Bim seems unsure, glancing over his shoulder at the wounded again. This is worse than anything they’ve ever dealt with before, and he should  _be_ here. But at the same time it hasn’t stopped, and the thought of getting away from it for a bit is tempting.

“I  _am_ feeling kind of hungry….” Bim muses.

“Exactly.” Silver throws his arm around Bim’s shoulders, reaching to pull his best friend’s phone from his jacket pocket and pushing it into Bim’s hands. “Call your boyfriend. Make him treat you to a nice meal, and leave these monsters to me for a few hours.”

He watches the last of Bim’s resistance to the idea crumble, and Trimmer gives that smile that could probably make a cloudy day run for the hills as he takes his phone from Silver’s fingers.

“You’re right.” he comments, dialing the number and holding the phone to his ear as he walks off for a little privacy.

Once Bim’s far enough away, Silver’s smile just drops, his mouth becoming a firm line. Bim deserves a little bit of normal, he tells himself, a little bit of nothing to do with any of them.

There’s a crackle and the air splits as Anti appears beside Silver. Anti, who’s been inside Silver’s head, who’s seen every corner of the hero’s heart and soul and knows better than anyone how he feels about Bim, and knows just how much it must kill to send Trimmer to spend time with the asshole that is his boyfriend.

“You’re an idiot,” Anti leans across to Silver, voice glitching slightly as he fights the urge to giggle at the hero’s stupidity.

Silver just glares, not even deigning to look at the glitch, “Shut up.”


	128. A Nice Meal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, shit....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS: lot of blood mentions, and a strong suggestion of a human eating another human.
> 
> If you need a trigger free summary please see the end notes

Matthias is talking about himself, as usual. Far from Bim’s favorite thing about him, yet somehow a frequent occurrence when they go out together. Talking about plans to work together on some project or other, on making a big name together. Honestly Bim’s not paying all that much attention and has already forgotten a lot of what his boyfriend is saying. It’s the same conversation over and over and honestly Bim just doesn’t feel like he’s up to putting up with Matthias’s bullshit tonight.

Bim is hungry. It started as just a kind of hollow tingle in the base of his gut  but it’s slowly been growing since they’ve sat down. They haven’t even ordered yet and Bim is too polite for his own good, not wanting to interrupt. Turns out he doesn’t need to though, his stomach letting out an intense gurgle that stops Matthias half way through a sentence.

Laughing nervously, Bim suggests they order something. At least when Matthias is eating he’s not talking about himself, which is always a plus. And Bim finds it’s surprisingly easy to avoid questions about his last few days when Matthias isn’t asking a single thing about him.

Is Matthias usually this inattentive? He’s sure that must be wrong. Surely Bim’s just imagining it because of all the things that have happened in the last few days.

The plates are taken and Matthias starts up again while Bim subtly holds a hand against his stomach beneath the table. The entrée hasn’t even made a dent in his appetite and he asks the waiter to bring a few extra sides with their mains. Matthias apparently doesn’t appreciate that, though he stops complaining when Bim insists he’ll pay. He’s just so hungry.

The main meals take forever, seconds ticking by at a snail’s pace, and Bim has simply stopped paying the ass across from him any attention. Not that Matthias notices, far too happy to keep talking about himself uninterrupted for once.

God, why is Bim even with this guy? He bends over the table slightly, and gives a groan, waving the faux concern away, insisting he’s just hungry.

The ache in his stomach is worse, icy cold and beginning to spread, inch by inch into his chest, getting a vice-like grip on his lungs and filling him with something, an unidentifiable need. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before.

His plate is barely put down before he’s all but shovelling the food into his mouth, eating non-stop, and ignoring Matthias’s comments of piggishness. In less than five minutes, his meal is finished, another five and the sides are gone. Every morsel of food eaten, and it barely makes a difference, and Bim is beginning to realise that he honestly can’t stand Matthias.

Why hasn’t he realised this before? Why do all the little quirks that used to make him endearing now make him a loathsome pile of crap with a mouth?

The rest of the night passes in a blur, the outside world almost drowned out by the all consuming craving for something that he can’t name. It’s hunger, he gets that much, but for what? What food is there that will shut his stomach up?

It’s several minutes before he realises they’ve left the restaurant, and Matthias is still talking, though he sounds like he’s complaining which means he’s not going on about himself any more.

And Bim feels something snap, his bullshit meter pushed way beyond breaking point. He grabs Matthias, dragging him out of sight, somewhere out of the way and slams his boyfriend’s back against a wall in some dingy alley. Somewhere where no one will interrupt them.

“What are yo-?”

- **SLAP** -

Bim slaps Matthias. Hard. Right across his smug face and he finally _finally_ stops talking!!

And it’s in that moment, staring at this sickening piece of crap that he realises.

Bim…is hungry.

* * *

Bim enters the warehouse, uncaring of the droplets of blood he leaves in his wake, dripping from his fingertips as he walks. He isn’t hungry any more, and Matthias isn’t going to talk anymore. He’s sure he should be feeling something else right now, but all there is is a pleasant numbness just in the base of his gut. On instinct, he licks his lips, remembering that delectable meal.

“Bim?” Tobi is waiting for him, as Bim knew he would and Bim smiles, raising his bloody fingers and giving a slight wave to his best friend.

“You were right.” Bim sighs happily. “I needed that.” The look of horror on the hero’s face doesn’t go away and Bim reaches to his lips. “Is there something on my face?”

“Blood.” Blunt and fearful.

Bim frowns moving to find the nearest reflective surface.

Oh no, it would seem he got a little messy, a lot of blood dripping from his mouth and flecking all over his face.

“Oops.” he chuckles as he takes off his jacket, revealing more blood staining a good portion of his usually pristine white shirt, and using the collar of his suit jacket to dab at his cheek. “Guess I’m a messier eater than I thought.”

“Bim, whose blood is that?”

Bim rolls his eyes and tosses his jacket to the ground, wiping a bit at his hands but knowing that there’s a bit too much blood to be able to make any difference.

“Matthias just  _would not_  stop talking. Has he always been like that?”

“Bim.” Tobi’s voice is low, his arm outstretched and stance defensive. He’s moved between Bim and the doorway through which the others are probably sleeping.

“What  _are_  you doing?”

“Did you  _kill_  him?”

Kill….? No. Bim would…..he would never…

Something primal stirs at the base of Bim’s mind. An anger that isn’t his own, but can’t belong to anyone else, rises unbidden from the bottom of his soul as he realises. Silver thinks he’s a threat.

“So what if I did?” he folds his arms and glares at the hero. Who does he think he is? Who does he think he’s facing? Does he have any idea how  _laughable_ this is? “You think-?”

- **THUNK** -

Bim crashes to the ground, head spinning and coughing up blood as Phantom steps up behind him.

“Sorry,” he’s panicked and a little out of breath as he adjusts his cane that he just whacked Bim round the head with, “I came as soon as I found out.”

“Found out  _what_?” Silver looks completely at a loss, as he shouts in confusion and strides towards them. “ _What_  is going on?”

“The Author captured Bim in the building,” Phantom steps over the blood-stained TV show host and holds out an arm to push Silver back, to keep him away from the character that Bim Trimmer has become, “And rewrote him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUMMARY: Bim is hungry and after growing more infuriated with Matthias, he eats him.  
> He comes back to the warehouse where he acts very out of character and Phantom arrives to reveal that the Author has 'rewritten' Bim.
> 
> Sooooooooooo, tumblr looks like it's starting to go down but I am not wanting to lose chances to interact with my readers, so I've made an instagram to post updates and pictures that inspire me towards this storyline.  
> If you think you might be interested, a follow would be much appreciated! Just search for >protectionverse< on instagram


	129. Late Night Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why does it have to be Bim?

In the middle of the room, Bim is splayed on the floor, out cold. It took more than it should have to take him down and Silver could wash for a year and never clean himself of the feeling of wrong that came from knocking Bim out. Phantom stands beside him, clutching his cane and also staring at Bim.

The silence between them is tense, having lasted a good ten minutes at this point, both of them thinking on the current predicament.

“You do deals right?” Silver is the first one to speak, his voice gravelly and quiet, wary of the others sleeping in the other room, and not wanting to wake any of them. “That’s your thing.”

Phantom glances over at Silver, an unspoken accusation and general state of disapproval in his eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“We could make a deal-”

“No.” Phantom attempts to interrupt.

“-and bring Bim back.”

“I said  _no._ I’m not a fairy godmother. My deals do  _not_ come with happy endings.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Silver shuffles in place, letting out a quiet oof as Phantom’s cane thumps him firmly in the chest. Looking up he sees the dealmaker glaring at him.

“ _Every_ choice matters.” Phantom states firmly, inarguably. “From cradle to grave, everything you do, every turn you take changes the world. Not just for you but those around you as well.” The cane moves away again, returning to being held between Phantom’s fingers. “Take it from someone the Author created to get people to make the  _wrong_  choice.”

“Created?” Silver looks across in shock. He knew the Author/Host was powerful but creating a person? “Are you sayin-?”

The kid holds a hand up to silence him. “Please don’t say it. The last thing I need is another existential crisis right now.”

The silence descends again and Silver’s eyes drift back to the unconscious body. Bim, the real Bim, would be horrified by this mess. He’s the only one in the whole building, except maybe Dark, who tries to maintain some kind of order in the mess of chaos that the others throw around. So to see him soaked through with…. Silver bows his head.

“Well then, with all offence intended,  _why_  are you here?” As much malice and spite as he can manage is stuffed into his words.

“Because hard as it may be to believe, I want to help you.”

He scoffs, oh he totally believes that. “Why?”

“……its complicated.”

Silver turns, raising an eyebrow at the kid. Yeah that kind of vague bullshit isn’t going to fly tonight. The dealmaker shuffles under the glare, doing his best to avoid the gaze but ultimately, his shoulders sagging as he realises the hero isn’t going to let this go.

“I think I was meant to be a Faustian demon, you know. A being that comes to you offering you your deepest desires in exchange for something vital. The Author told me I was like a test. I was supposed to make people reassess their lives. Either make them grateful for what they had or punish them for having skewed priorities. And that’s how it was before Mark….” he swallows. “Before Mark took the Author’s eyes.”

“That was Mark?” Silver had always wondered about that but the others had insisted it would be rude to ask.

“Mark forced me to draft a deal with him to bring back his wife. Except it wouldn’t work. My power comes through sacrifice, and Mark had nothing left to give at that point. Just anger and pain. And when he realised I couldn’t do what he wanted….” Reaching up, Phantom absent-mindedly scratches at the side of his head. “Author had shown him how to…mess with my head. He couldn’t erase me or rewrite me but Mark could screw with me until I didn’t know what I was doing any more.

“Then one day,” Phantom snaps his fingers, “it was like I’d woken up. I still couldn’t fight Mark but I could breathe and see everything, every deal I’ve done for him for what it was. And I hated it.” He wraps his hand around the glass globe on the top of his cane and drums his fingers against it, enjoying the slight tingle the gesture gives him. “He had me watching you guys for a long time. If anyone so much as sneezed, he wanted to know. And honestly, you guys are insane. I mean certifiably cuckoo crazy bananas. None of you would last five minutes out in the real world.” The drumming stops, the dealmaker freezes and his gaze saddens as he continues to stare. “So you carved out your own little corner of reality.”

Thinking on it, it doesn’t take too long to realise what the kid is hinting at having happened and Silver can’t help the little smirk that comes as he puts it into words. “You like us.”

“I don’t know.” Phantom shakes his head. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t like what I’ve done. And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m flying through this by the seat of my pants and underneath it all, there’s this little voice,” he taps the side of his head firmly, “right at the base of my skull and I just can’t get it to shut up.”

“What’s it saying?”

“That I’m not going to survive this.” There’s an echoing ominous nature to his words, an undeniable weight to them and both of them can’t help but to shiver.

“You’re right.” Phantom looks up in horror, but Silver raises a hand to dismiss the immediate thought. “Choices  _do_  matter. If you don’t want to offer me the deal,  _that’s_   _a choice._  One that closes off any chance of us turning this around.”

“You don’t know that.” He can see the kid’s resolve is weakening and continues.

“If we’re going to save our family, we need Bim to do it.” If Phantom watched them he’ll have seen. He’ll know just how strangely controlled and level headed the TV show host is. How vital he is to keeping all the crazies in the ‘family’ balanced.

Phantom turns and looks purposefully in the other direction and Silver huffs a tired sigh. “At least tell me what it would take.”

For a while, the kid does nothing and Silver sighs, resigned to having to find an alternative solution when he hears the dealmaker move beside him. Opening his eyes, the hero sees Phantom stood before him, fingers twitching, cane firmly grasped in his other hand.

“This is probably going to feel weird.” is all the warning Phantom gives before firmly placing his palm on the hero’s forehead.

Silver’s eyes flutter closed as a million memories, many long forgotten all flit by at speed. He can feel the dealmaker there, leafing though every last one, looking for that vital cost, the price that could save them all.

Faces long forgotten, and others he’ll always remember pass before his eyes in the space of mere seconds as a lifetime just flies by. When Phantom draws back, the world comes back into view.

It takes a moment for Silver to come back to himself, finding a black handkerchief in front of him, offered out by Phantom as the kid looks morose. Another second and Silver realises he’s crying, snatching the hanky and purposefully turns away so his emotions have less of an immediate audience.

“Well that was an experience.” he mumbles.

Seconds feel like hours as Silver tries to compose himself, pushing away the thoughts and faces that keep trying to float to the surface. Phantom doesn’t push which doesn’t help, any kind of words would do well right now but there’s nothing and after a few deep breaths, Silver turns back.

“So what will it take?”

There’s a firm thunk as Phantom lowers his cane, the base thudding into the floor as he wraps his fingers around the globe, focusing on his fingers and refusing to meet Silver’s gaze.

“The price for Bim,” he speaks firmly, “is your soul.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays Everybody!!


	130. Deal Or No Deal?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silver has a decision to make.

Silver is perched on the end of a random table, Mad is apparently not a tidy or organised person, there being several of these around the warehouse. Bim is still on the floor out cold and Phantom is between them, slowly walking back and forth, softly but nervously swinging his cane through the air beside him as he steps. They’re otherwise silent, the low temperature and poor heating only partially responsible for the crisp chill in the air between them.

“You know what taking this deal will do to you.”

“Yeah.” Silver’s head is bowed, arms folded and eyes fixed on a point on the floor.

“So you’re  _not_  going to take it.” It’s more of a direction than a question because Phantom knows that Silver is considering it, and knows that it’s possibly the worst thing to do right now.

See usually, a soul is wholly inessential to life. Your average human can easily continue on without one, fundamentally changed from who they were as a person but still alive and able to continue. But Silver’s a special case, and giving his soul is a far steeper price.

“They need Bim.” his voice is low, barely above a mutter and Phantom rounds on the hero.

“ _Do_  they? Or do  _you_? If you-”

“They don’t trust me!” The words snap through the air and silence Phantom in a second. Silver looks up, a fiery look in his eyes that could be anger or maybe just pain. “ _None of them_ trust me because they’re waiting for me to turn into  _him_.” His eyes dart over to the doorway, towards his doppleganger, the proven asshole, the liar, the cheater, the deceiver. “When they find out I had a chance to save Bim and didn’t, they’ll  _never_  forgive me.” His eyes fall to the ground again, defeated. “They need  _Bim_.”

It’s hardly something Phantom can argue with. He’s seen the looks, the glances, the hushed whispers, all pretty prominent inside Silver’s memories and though everyone’s amicable, the truth, the lack of trust is there, plain as day to see.

With a weary sigh, Phantom steps forward, taking a seat next to the hero and watching him carefully, but they both remain silent for a few minutes.

Silver reaches up and runs a hand down his face, frustrated and afraid as he speaks.

“It work like a contract, right?”

“I guess.” Phantom inclines his head. He’s never used an actual contract before but the basic premise is the same.

“So could I set some terms?”

“If you don’t give your soul then yo-” Phantom begins, but Silver cuts across him.

“No I, I get that. I meant like…..” his hands fidget as he thinks how best to word this, “Can I tighten the deal, so it doesn’t come back to screw anyone over?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I give up my….” he can’t say it, but he continues on, “and Bim is him again. Completely him.  _No_  lingering urges. I want him to look at a slightly undercooked burger and feel queasy.”

“That’s….actually pretty smart.” Phantom tilts his head.

“And he can’t remember.” Phantom grimaces, gesturing for the hero to elaborate. It is never good to be vague when negotiating. Silver looks between Bim and the dealmaker beside him, “Bim needs to remember  _why_  Matthias isn’t around, but he can’t remember anything of the actual…..eating.” Silver counts off a few examples on his fingers. “No flashbacks, no nightmares, no triggers. For now and forever more, the details have to be gone from his mind.”

Phantom nods. Much better. Much more precise and distinct. “Anything else?”

“I want to say goodbye.”

The dealmaker waits, honestly expecting there to be more, but Silver doesn’t continue, his gaze focused on Bim. Did Silver learn nothing from the last term, though this time, maybe a little vagueness can work to their advantage

Phantom nods. “I think I can swing that.”

The deal and the terms set out, there is little more that Phantom can do at this point. He can’t rescind it, once a deal is offered, the mark must either accept or reject it and that is not something that Phantom can control. Even so, he makes one last plea.

“Is there anything I can say to convince you not to do this?”

Silver doesn’t turn. “No.” Firm. Inarguable.

Giving a tired sigh, Phantom reluctantly pushes himself to his feet and turns towards the hero.  He offers out his hand, waiting patiently as Silver continues to watch Bim. When he finally reaches to take the hand, Phantom pulls away at the last moment, finally drawing Silver’s attention to him.

“Only do this, if you’re sure.”

He lowers his hand again. There’s a moment, though brief where he sees the hero question himself, where he asks if this is really what he wants. But the resolve doesn’t leave, it doesn’t lessen or weaken.

Silver reaches forward and takes the dealmaker’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everybody.
> 
> Ain't nobody gonna be prepared for what's coming next.


	131. The Right Choice...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...can sometimes be disguised as the wrong one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been building to this for a few months now. I hope it hits as intended.

“You! Are! An! Idiot!” Between each word, Bim smacks at Tobi, or at least he tries, the hero having his arms raised to stop them from landing too hard.

“Hey, easy!”

“Easy? EASY?!” Bim smacks him again.

Everything is a _mess_ , there are blocks of Bim’s memory that are missing, other blocks that are slowly slotting into place that he _wishes_ were still missing, and he’s slowly developing a headache that’s got enough strength in it to level a small city. All of that _and_ what this idiot has just admitted to, and Tobi wants Bim to take it easy!?!?!

“You! Sold! Your! Soul!”

I mean of course he did. Of course Tobi did the stupidest possible thing he could. The most dramatic, the most unnecessary, the most _EXTRA_ thing he could _possibly_ do in order to fix the broken mess that Bim’s life has become. I mean sure their home has been stolen, their family torn asunder, their hope and lives are in tatters, and their ‘leaders’ are reduced to near nothing, but Bim _refuses_ to believe that this damned deal is their only option!

Bim raises his arm to strike again, forced to stop as Tobi surges forward, arms wrapping around the TV show host and holding him close. A hug?!

“No!” Bim tries to struggle, twisting and turning in the hold but unsurprisingly the hero has a bit of strength to him, one arm around Bim’s waist as the other cradles his head against Tobi’s shoulder, “No! I am _mad_ at you!”

The hold is deceptive; firm and sturdy, as though everything isn’t falling to shit around them, as though this isn’t the worst possible outcome. Why did this have to happen? The fight just drains from Bim, who sinks into the hold, reaching to hold the idiot back. This could be the last time they have together, and there’s better ways to be spending it.

“You’re an idiot.” Bim mumbles.

“Habit of a lifetime.” Tobi chuckles.

Bim hates this. No moment that’s brought them to this point is worth this. He should have blocked Matthias’ number when that first text came through. He should have listened to Tobi about letting Bing into the building again. He should have been more assertive with Tobi all those times-.

A harsh flick to the ear brings Bim back to the moment before the hand rests against his head again.

“I can hear you blaming yourself.” the hero teases.

“That’s _not_ funny.”

“It will _always_ be funny.”

Those words are a joke between them, but Bim doesn’t want to laugh. He wants it all to stop, for things to go back to the strange kind of normal that they were. He wants his family and his home back. He wants his best friend to stay. His arms squeeze Tobi tightly, holding him close as he fights the urge to break.

“What are we going to do?”

“You’re Bim Trimmer.” Tobi speaks softly as he gently drags his fingers through Bim’s hair, the sensation soothing to both of them. “You’ll do what you do best.”

“Absolutely nothing?”

Tobi shakes his head. “You’ll keep Wilford in line, stand up to Dark, look out for the others. And together you’ll all get Bing back, kick Mark’s ass, and kill the Author.”

“But what about you?”

Tobi gives a small humorless laugh, allowing his fingers to pause, tangled gently in Bim’s hair as he holds him.. “I don’t think even the great Bim Trimmer can help me.”

The great Bim Trimmer. It’s said without the slightest hint of sarcasm, and godammit Bim wants to hit him again. He’s not great. If he was great, he’d have been able to stop Tobi from constantly throwing himself in harm’s way all the time. As it is, all he can do is watch as the idiot crashes and burns. Again.

All too soon, Tobi is drawing away, pulling out of Bim’s grip, carefully clasping the TV show host’s hands pressing a stupidly dramatic kiss to the fingers as he steps back and turns towards Phantom, one hand still clinging to the fingers on Bim’s left hand.

“I’m ready.”

Through all of this, Phantom has been stood a short way off, far enough to grant them some small level of privacy but close enough to never be far from mind. Throughout the whole exchange he’s been watching in silence, a small smile playing at his lips. He’s always enjoyed watching these two interact. As they turn to him now, his smile morphs into a smirk and Phantom shakes his head, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“No you’re not. Not yet.”

Phantom’s grip loosens just enough to allow his cane to easily slide through his fingers, the base softly thudding on the ground beneath him. Immediately behind the dealmaker, a blinding light tears through the air, sparking as it pulses and grows outwards. Larger and larger, endlessly crackling as it grows and grows, peeling open further and further until it’s big enough for a person to walk through. Sure enough, within seconds a shadowy figure begins to take form at the centre of the light, becoming darker and darker until finally something steps through the doorway.

A man, wearing an old faded yellow military style shirt, military style pants, and big black boots strides forward. His clothes are crumpled and old, long in need of some TLC, and clearly well worn of what would have once been military crispness. His hair is dark and shaggy, definitely in need of some trimming but giving him a soft and loving look while perfectly matching the big black bushy brush that sits beneath his nose.

“You said you wanted to say goodbye,” Phantom gives a half-shrug, looking between the slack-jawed Tobi and this stranger, his smirk drawing a little wider, “But you didn’t specify who to. So I took a little liberty.”

Eventually, after looking about the room around them, the man’s soft eyes finally come to settle on Tobi and Bim, his eyes crinkling as he gives a big smile that could easily melt an icy heart.

Tobi finally manages to find his words and blurts out, “William?!”

Bim’s jaw drops.


	132. The Disaster Trio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William is not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to visit family for the next few days and wanted to post this on here before I left.  
> Credit to risisfiki on tumblr for the title inspiration
> 
> Hope you enjoy

William crosses the room in two huge strides, calling over his shoulder as he all but snatches Silver from the floor, lifting him into the air and beaming.

“Jackson! Wickes! He’s here! I’ve found him!”

The unstable doorway through which he just passed pulses, shifting as another shadow grows from within until, with an almighty flash-bang-crash, Jackson tumbles through. Quickly scrambling to his feet, the dapper man brushes himself down. He’s wearing a deep blue waistcoat while mint green hair pokes out from under a black bowler hat. He too sports a bushy moustache, though it’s better groomed than Will’s, while over his shoulder hangs a saddle bag that he holds close against his side. Once he’s pulled himself together, Jackson’s eyes bulge almost comically as he points in awe.

Behind him, the doorway finally stablises and Wickes simply walks through, one hand raised in the air as it glows with pure white magic. His short brown hair is almost a perfect match to Phantom’s, while his outfit is far more casual when compared to the other two. A white v-neck t-shirt with a blue button-up shirt pulled over it, torn black jeans and well-worn black boots. His sleeves are pushed back to the elbow his forearms sporting more than one tattoo and a cord necklace is looped around his neck, though the pendant is tucked beneath his shirt’s collar.

Wickes tilts his head as he looks at the person in Will’s arms. The glowing around his hand stops and the doorway collapses in on itself.

“Yeah, I was  _way_  off.” he comments as he stuffs his hands into his pockets and glances around.

William continues to hold the boy close, completely missing that Silver’s obviously in shock as he just revels in finally,  _finally_ , finding his boy after what he can only assume is years of searching. Time gets a bit muddled after a while. Things meld together until eventually they just kind of fall into obscurity.

Silver struggles, pulling free of William’s hold and backing away, face full of confusion and pain.

“Damien?”

“Where the fuck  _were_  you!”

“I’m not sure that I-”

“You swore you’d always be there when I needed you! You  _promised_!” He raises his hand and holds up two fingers. “I almost died twice before I wound up here and where were you!”

Tears are welling up in his eyes, and Bim steps up behind him, reaching for the hero’s hand.

William goes to open his mouth, to give probably one of any number of reasons for his absence but is stopped by Jackson’s hand on his shoulder, the mint green-haired man gently shaking his head.

William turns back to the hero. “Damien, I….”

“And  _now_  you turn up.” The tears break free rolling down his cheeks as he shouts. “Just as I-” he cuts himself off, squeezing Bim’s hand, his best friend stepping closer to try and console him. When it was just the two of them, he could handle it because he knew it was the right thing to do. To protect Bim, to protect his family but now…

Will watches the two of them curiously, his attention snapped away by a sharp whistle. Wickes raises his eyebrows before nodding towards the stranger that until this point they had all managed to miss.

Phantom has stayed back, watching everything unfold in confusion. He had only intended to bring Will here. Who the other two are and how they got through is a mystery to him, but as all three turn to look at him, he tenses. He doesn’t know them, but they share a knowing look as though his presence here explains a lot.

When William turns back to Silver and Bim, there is a look of grave concern on his face.

“Damien, what did you do?”


	133. Too Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It will always be too soon...

“We’ll fix this.” William promises, his arms tightly wrapped around Tobi, holding him close while Jackson stands a short way off, fiddling with the strap of his saddle bag. Tobi is holding William back with one hand, but the other is reached behind him, fingers desperately clinging to Bim’s. More than once Bim moves to gently tug his fingers from the grip but they just cling tighter and he waits, feeling a little bit like a third wheel on this private moment th at he knows Tobi’s waited nearly five years for.

Wickes turns his back, not being a very touchey-feely guy himself, wandering over to stand near Phantom, watching him with a rather annoying level of fascination. The dealmaker watches him back, daring him to make a move. Wickes honestly doesn’t care though, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at the little love fest before turning away again.

“This might go on a while.” he mutters towards Phantom. “Now may be the kindest time.”

As Phantom takes a step forward, since Wickes is definitely right, Bim’s heart leaps into his chest, racing a mile a minute. Now? Already? Can’t they have another five minutes? Except Wickes is right. This moment has to happen, and the longer they leave this, the worse it’s going to hurt.

When Phantom’s cane glows, Bim steps closer, holding Tobi’s hand close, watching the light slowly spread over the dumbass hero. It grows, covering every inch of skin swallowing him up.

They all watch and wait in silence as it becomes brighter, glowing intensely until the details of the man in the light begin to blur, and eventually, the limbs they’re holding onto become air. Within moments, where Tobias….Damien once stood, there’s nothing but empty space.

Phantom says something, but the words don’t break through.

Bim stares at his fingers, empty. Silent tears cascade down his cheeks. It’s too quiet but what the hell is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do?

Surprisingly strong arms reach forward, wrapping around him and pulling him against a strange yet oddly familiar chest. The hands are dirty, worn and cracked, a sign that whoever they belong to uses them often. Bim doesn’t think. He just leans into the chest, reaching to hold it back, not really registering who it is, just that they’re there, and right now that’s just what he needs. A shuddery breath in is followed by a quiet choking on a strangled cry that Bim can’t keep in.

This is all his fault.

“It’s okay.” the chest he’s held against rumbles. It sounds like Wilford, but Bim knows that means it must be William. Surprisingly similar but so different at the same time. “We’ll fix this.”

Except there’s so much to fix. How much more must they lose before this ends, before they can rise up and take back their home. Stress and anxiety he didn’t know he was holding in wells up and pours out, clinging a little tighter and just crying. Because godammit, Bim’s earned that much.

Part of him wishes he could stay like this. Hidden from the world and it’s cruelties, just for a little while. Pretend that everything isn’t all falling to shit. Except the ragtag remains of his family are waiting in the next room. They’ll be waking up soon and they’re going to need him to make sure nobody else does anything else incredibly stupid.

Bim pushes back, straightening up, barely able to raise his head, but still smiling, thanking William for the small comfort. Phantom is gone, but the three strangers are still there. Something else he will have to prepare the others for. Something to try and explain to Dark and Wilford. Oh lord! Wilford!

The door to the other room suddenly crashes open, revealing a still incredibly weak-looking Dark stood on the other side. Almost all his weight is leaning on Marvin, stood beside him with the grey man’s arm thrown over his shoulder. By the tired and aggravated look on the magician’s face, there was an argument about moving the grey bastard, and Marvin lost.

As always, Dark is scowling.

“What have you idiots done?”


	134. An Unstoppable Force...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do they only ever get a brief moment of calm?

“I turned my back for two fucking minutes.”

Dark grumbles, shifting to step forward, jerked back by Marvin’s arm around his waist. The magician just shakes his head, holding tight. Dark is in no shape to be walking on his own and no matter how much the grey git likes to stroke his own ego by strutting around like a grumpy grizzly bear, Marvin isn’t going to let him overwork himself.

“No actually.” Bim is angry, talking curtly, arms crossed, scowling. “You were kidnapped. And replaced. We were attacked, Bing was possessed, Google’s broken, and now we have three visitors from another universe.”

They both glance over to William, Jackson, and Wickes, the three having enough sense to stand back, able to sense the rising tension.

“If I had-”

“ _This_  is what happened.” Bim cuts across pointing a finger in Dark’s face, eyes flaring with frustration and anger, the like of which Dark hasn’t seen in Trimmer in a long time. Honestly he didn’t believe the goof still had it in him. “How about we focus on that?”

Dark isn’t sure about Bim’s attitude right now but they don’t have time to be fighting about it. “Fixing Google has to be our priority.”

“And what about Bing?”

“I understand I have this reputation of being heartless,” in fact it’s something he’s quite proud of. So many of their family, of their problems, stemming from an inability to act without emotions, “but do you honestly think we can have any hope of getting Ashley back without Google on side?”

Not to mention that without his emotional processor, none of that carefully cultivated loyalty will be loading properly. He’s too big a player to lose at this point, something that could very easily happen if his brothers manage to screw up keeping him in check, which given their current record of luck, could very well happen.

“Then we’ll need Mad to figure out that new emotional processor. Except him and Natemare have both gone missing.” Bim comments. They’ve searched the entire building more than once but there’s no sign of hide nor hair of either of them, at the worst possible moment no less.

“Of course they have.”

“In the meantime we need to-”

A dangerously exuberant voice cuts across him, “I thought I told you to stay down you pompous assho-”

They turn. Wilford stands in the doorway, having woken to find Dark disappeared and of course having walked to find where the idiot wandered off to, except now he stands in the doorway, eyes wide as his focus is entirely consumed by one of the three strangers stood to the other side of the room. Why does he look so familiar?

Dark recognises the look in his friend’s eyes.

“CODE PINK!” he shouts before he and Marvin fall to the ground, shoved down by Bim with a little bit of magic for good measure. It knocks the breath from his broken body as two shots are set off. Chaos erupts around them, Bim leaping back as he throws up a shield, having no time to figure out which direction the bullets are going.

Jackson and Wickes are stood in defence, both ready to fight but two feet before them William stands with his arms wide, blocking them. As the shots land, William grunts, curling in on himself partially calling over his shoulder.

“Wickes.”

“I got you.” Wickes calls back.

William charges, rushing at the gunman who lets off more shots. He hears but doesn’t register them, adrenaline coursing through him,  as he collides with the standing pink blur. He fights the urge to give in to the sensations, but as every time before, William draws back his fist and throws the first punch.

Beyond that he knows he’s fighting, that someone is right there, but who, what, why, it doesn’t matter. This is what he does. This is how he works. It’s what makes sense. There’s resistance, a proper fight from someone for once but details are irrelevant. Fight. That’s what he has to do.

And as with every other time before, soon enough the world around William and Wilford goes white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a date tomorrow. Going to spend the day with a real human person who says that they like me. Never done this before, so please wish me luck.
> 
> Also thank you for your patience with my postings.


	135. Disappointment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody has been waiting for Phantom to return.

“Oh Phantom,” comes a dangerously familiar voice, “What have you done?”

Phantom jumps, having thought he was alone as he returned to the building, clutching his cane closer by instinct as he turns. Heart pounding in his chest, he feels like a teenager getting caught sneaking in after curfew.

The Author steps from the shadows, having shed Bing’s black tank top, replaced with a smart black shirt. Very Author 1.0, clearly very pleased with the change. The only remaining sign of his stolen body is the difference in colour between Bing’s bright blue robotic eye and his flecked blue human one.

“Author, I-”

“I want to say that I’m disappointed.”

He’s giving off a very weird vibe. Not anger, Phantom knows how that looks far more than he would care to admit, but it’s definitely something that screams of danger. Unconsciously, Phantom grips his cane even tighter and steps back.

“It’s not your fault.” The Author continues. He shakes his head, turning to pace, treading along a wide circle, movements slow. “I should have realised. Spending so much time playing second fiddle to a lesser being.” Pausing, the Author spits over his shoulder and down the corridor There’s a large amount of spite in his words as he speaks, barely restrained anger flitting across his face. “It stands to reason that you’d develop a conscience.”

“I don’t-”

The words just disappear as the Author snaps his fingers. Extending his left hand, he waits and Phantom can only watch, frozen as his cane is torn from his fingers and flies to the outstretched hand, catching it easily before twirling it and holding it in front of him.

“I know you developed a soft spot for those idiots.” he comments, gently passing his hand over the globe on the top as it begins to pulse with a soft white glow. “And I made sure you overheard me talking to Mark about Bim.”

Phantom is only half paying attention, eyes fixed on the light in his cane.

“It was a test. To see where your loyalties truly lie.” the Author’s hand comes down on the globe and he glances up with murderous eyes. “And you failed.”

Phantom tries to explain, to give reason, to make excuses but he still can’t speak, or move, forced to just watch at the white light grows brighter, peeking between the gaps in Author’s fingers.

“I wanted to be wrong.” he continues. “I wanted you to be exactly as I wrote you. But you failed. And now...”

The light is impossibly bright now and the Author lifts his hand, the light following, exiting the globe and rising upwards. The slow little white ball of light, Silver’s soul, rising up as the Author moves the hand beneath it, cradling it softly and looking at it with such a look of awe and admiration.

“You may not have done what I wanted, but you’ve brought me exactly what I need.”

There’s a sickening moment of silence, the Author glancing up and watching as the sickening realisation of what’s going on pass over Phantom’s face. It was a set up. All of it? Of course all of it! This is the fucking Author! Bim, Silver, all of it is Phantom’s fault, literal pawns in the Author’s game because Phantom went off script and tried to do something noble. It cuts deep and he can’t keep the devastation from his face. He was a dick and life stuck him with Mark as punishment. He tried to do good, and this is where it lead.

“I had so many plans for you Phantom.” The Author says, raising the dealmaker’s cane up. “But now you’re not worth the paper I wrote you on.”

The cane drops, the base of it slammed with force into the ground, making a loud ‘clack’ that strangely echoes all through the hallway the two of them stand in. As soon as it strikes the floor, the entire thing bursts, exploding into a billion tiny pieces that just disappear into nothing and nowhere. The cane is destroyed.

Phantom cries out, feeling the destruction rip straight through him, like he’s been sliced through with a rusty scythe, catching and tearing, ripping him at the very seams of his being. It’s more than just the cane that’s been destroyed.

Somehow he’s still standing, though he’s not sure how long that can possibly last, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him as his arms curl tight around his stomach, trying desperately to hold himself together. An unseen force lifts him from the floor, throwing him until he collides with a wall. Something in his chest cracks and he drops to the floor, desperately gasping, spasming in pain. Everything hurts and feels as though it’s dripping away. Wavering on the edge of consciousness, alone and afraid, Phantom feels a part of himself...erased.


	136. We All Need Some Time Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilford, and William....a recipe for disaster maybe?

Everything is white. Not the blinding bright white that comes with flashes of panic and rage, but rather a kind of sterile, comforting white. Soothing, warm. It reminds him vaguely of something, but he can’t quite think. It doesn’t matter though. It doesn’t feel like it matters.

“Better right?” rumbles a familiar voice from beside him. Wilford turns.

It’s like looking into a mirror, sort of. This man looks like him, but older. He seems more tired, more worn. Like he’s woken up on a thousand more bad days and somehow he’s still managed to pull through. It’s like looking into the past. At the man, the poor broken man he knows he once was….the….the...

No! Wilford’s heart skips a beat as he grabs for his gun, fingers closing on nothing. Instead the reflection raises one hand, Wilford’s pistol gripped between a thumb and forefinger. He considers it a moment before frowning at it and shaking his head.

“I don’t think you need this.”

With a flick of his wrist, the gun is thrown, whizzing through the air until it’s swallowed by the swirling, writhing white around them. It’s moving…? How is he only just realising this?

“Hey!” Wilford protests, though there’s no anger in his voice. It’s so hard for him to feel anger right now.

The reflection dusts his hands off, gently clapping them together and he gives a warm smile.

“Don’t worry. I just want to talk.”

“I warn you,” Wilford steps back, dipping into a semi-crouch and managing a vaguely predatory growl as he speaks, “I have lost a great deal today.”

“I’m sure you have.” Nodding, the reflection crosses his arms and just continues to gaze at the pink man before him. “It would seem to be our lot in life. But trust an old hat,” he gives a sly wink, “loss is no reason to lose your head.”

Wilford chuckles. He can’t help it. It’s like he’s speaking with an old friend, despite never having seen or met this man before. Staring at him, Wilford recognises so much of himself in there, yet there is definitely something more. Frankly it’s like looking at your reflection in a fun-house mirror. You know, it’s you (because who else can it be) but it looks nothing like you at the same time.

The reflection glances around at the white around them and Wilford follows his gaze, better able to see how it shifts and moves, wrapping around them like a cloud blanket, or a living version of a Starry Night by Van Gogh. There truly is a strange beauty to it.

“Where are we?”

“We call this Time Out.” The reflection is smiling as he continues to look around, his eyes closing briefly as he takes it all in. Can Wilford ever look as content as that? “A calming non-space for when things get out of hand.” Opening his eyes, the reflection meets Wilford’s gaze. “I’m sure you can relate.”

Wilford looks away. He’s not ignorant to the threat he poses to his family. He knows they have a series of color codes to deal with his various uncontrollable moods. That they have measures in place to deal with his ‘bad days’. He can relate, and it’s probably the most sickening thing in-

The ground beneath their feet rumbles, growing stronger and stronger until there’s a loud crash and both Wilford and William are almost thrown to the ground by something that neither of them can see. They’re barely able to keep themselves upright, both glancing around in panic. Only a moment later, another earthquake-level shaking of the world causes them both to call out as the very air around them stretches and strains, the serenity of this place, quickly dissipating.

“WICKES!” William shouts, clearly no longer content.

There’s no response, only another shake as the air around them stretches thinner and the air quickly fills with panic. Wilford’s reaches for his gun by instinct but it’s gone. Noticing, William reaches out towards Wilford shouting at him.

“Keep it together!”

Another drastic lurch and everything turns grey, the calm cracks and William grabs for Wilford’s shoulder, pulling the pink man closer as he shouts to the sky.

“WICKES! DROP US! NOW!”

The world shatters, splintering around them and blowing outwards, exploding in what feels like a dangerous break. Both Wilford and William thud harshly against the very solid ground, both grunting as they land. There’s a brief moment of confusion before Bim is right beside him, good ol’ Bim , one hand on Wilford’s shoulder to ground him while on the other side of him is Dark who manages to smack the pink idiot around the head..

“What happened?” Wilford asks, looking between them.

“We don’t know.” Dark explains as Bim pulls Wilford to his feet, one hand staying on his arm as an anchor. They all look over to the others. “He just started coughing.”

A short way away, the newcomers are stood, Wickes’s legs seeming to have given way beneath him, one arm slung around Jackson’s shoulder, who’s barely holding the poor guy up off the floor. Stood before the two of them is William, firmly tapping the boy’s cheek and calling his name.

Wickes looks in a bad way, paler than he should be, face gaunt, and blood dripping from his mouth, leaning heaviliy into Jackson’s hold of him. It’s impossible to tell if he’s even conscious, but William’s incessant tapping of the boy’s cheek would suggest that he’s teetering on the edge at least.

This is very not good.


	137. The Ripple - Rowan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsewhere, at the exact same time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who aren’t aware, Yan = PV!Yanderiplier (non-binary, Guardian, they/them), Rowan = robo!Nate inspired by Take Me Anywhere (male, robot, he/him), Enis = PV!Enis from Resident Enis 1 + 2 (male, vampire, Deity, he/him).  
> Read about Rowan and Yan in Surviving Five Nights, and their encounter with Enis in Hellhound and Humanoids.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, sorry.” Yan steps back.

“This wouldn’t keep happening if you would just let me  _lead_.” Rowan teases.

Yan’s just stood on Rowan’s feet again. At least they’re both barefoot though. They don’t want to imagine how much worse it could be if Yan was wearing their heels.

It has been an oddly quiet day today. No hellbent monsters, no shady shenanigans, no Deity-based issues cropping up. Just a nice, normal day, and not wanting to waste such a rare blessed gift, Rowan insists they take the afternoon off and give dancing a try. Nothing fancy, just a little semi-formal, barely choreographed attempt at something that he knows Yan has always wanted to try.

“Seven.” Enis says around a mouthful of popcorn. The vampire, is sat in a chair at the side of the room, apparently very much enjoying the lazy afternoon’s activities.

“Stop counting.” Yan snaps at him, adjusting the waistcoat they decided to wear for this. Okay so it’s nothing special, but they wanted to make an effort. There’s nothing wrong with that. “In my defence, I’ve been raised in a society that told me I was  _always_  going to have to lead.”

“And now you’re in a motel room being told to just let me-” Rowan’s system blanks, everything shutting down,  Yan doesn’t even hesitate as they grab for him.

Everything comes back online almost instantly, but it’s in chaos. All signals in his brain are going haywire, spewing garbled nonsense and throwing up endless error messages. The only thing that pushes through is pain and Rowan let’s out a horrible scratchy, robotic mess of a cry as he crumples. Yan already has him though, hooking their arm under Rowan’s arms, scooping him up from the floor and immediately carrying him to the bed.

“What did you do!?” Enis leaps up from his seat rushing to scramble onto Rowan’s other side.

“I  _obviously_  didn’t do this!” Yan places a hand over Rowan’s mouth to try and stop the noise. It only manages to muffle him “What do we do?” They look across to Enis.expectantly.

“You want  _me_ to try something?” Yan glares at him and Enis flails a little in confusion. “But magic doesn’t work on robots.”

“I imagine that’s something that the Deity of  _Chaos_  could find a way  _around_!” From what they’d observed of Enis’s abilities to date, chaos magic is literally about subverting the laws of reality and is probably a big reason there’s such a huge freaking target on their backs.

“….Are you feeling okay?” Enis stares in confusion. Yan is always going on about  _not_  using the chaos magic. I mean it’s unpredictable, dangerous and-

“ENIS!”

“OKAY!”

The vamp shifts, swinging his leg so he’s straddling Rowan’s chest, which helps to keep the droid in place at least, and with a slight blep of concentration, Enis places one hand on either side of Rowan’s head and focuses. His eyes light up with the worryingly familiar yellow glow of his magic as he works hard to do something that is utterly impossible. So a normal day. After a few moments, Rowan passes out; still running, but no longer conscious.

Yan grabs Enis, and lifts him off Rowan, backing up several steps pulling the vampire with them, immediately severing the connection between the two of them, not wanting to risk problems through prolonged contact. Enis doesn’t protest, letting himself be pulled away. Once the magic fades from Enis’s eyes, the two of them stare at the droid, unconscious on the bed.

“What the fuck?”


	138. The Ripple - Natemare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsewhere, at the exact same time...sort of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one as I will be expanding on it further in Escape the Motherloving Nightmare but it needs to feature in here.

Mare clings tighter to the music box. He cannot seriously be considering this as an option. This music box is probably their only way out this room, but he knows the second it starts playing he’ll-

Mare frowns, tilting his head to look across the bar from his perch on the stairs. Abe is still stood leaning against the pillar with the light switch, now carrying the replenishing whiskey shot in his hand, probably saying something, though his words are starting to slur and being slightly drowned out by the sound of pinging, whooping, children screaming, laughter, digitized music, loud, continuous. The sounds of an arcade. He pushes himself up, standing on the stairs, holding the banister as he whistles to the get Abe’s attention.

“Do you hear-”

The whole world is gone. Just for a moment, Mare knows nothing but complete black. When the world comes back, there’s a thud as the music box hits the floor, Mare’s hands raised to cover his face. The arcade noises are back as well, and he can feel himself wavering as he tries to hold on. No! He didn’t play it! He didn’t play-

Nothing.

Blackness.

Void.

The End.

When it comes back again, Mare can’t breathe. The sounds are getting louder and his head feels like its shrinking.

“Kid are you okay?” Abe’s there, voice echoing around them. When did Mare move against the wall?? He lashes out shoving the detective back as everything cuts out again.

Still black, vast, nothing, but this time he can see something moving in it. A great swirling blackness against the void that seems to be watching him, he can feel it watching. Not like a predator but Mare does not feel safe in this thing’s presence. There is no form, there are no words, and within seconds the thing rushes at him, knocking him back into the world.

He’s on the floor, his whole being aches, his panic won’t ease up and his breathing won’t even out. What the FUCK is going on?!

There’s a slide and a thud, a hand on his shoulder, a voice calling out his name but Mare is drifting. He can feel himself barely holding on, afraid of sliding back into that non-space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anybody see the link yet?


	139. The Ripple - Seb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsewhere, at the exact same time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Travis is a MatPat ego I created based on [this photo](https://66.media.tumblr.com/5ef35721ad4db741afb629e64bd4091d/tumblr_inline_pnlbaq9ynX1vyj1va_1280.jpg) and Seb is a Battler ego inspired by the music video All I See by Natewantstobattle.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“There is absolutely  _nothing_  to worry about.” Travis’s tone is not reassuring. It’s the same one he uses when he spews one of his really out there theories for his online videos. It absolutely does not inspire confidence.

The two of them are in Travis’s bedroom, Seb stood in the middle of the room, kind of sick of passing through objects and really not wanting to remind himself of his miserable situation. Travis meanwhile is sat in his cheapo chair, pulled up to his well-worn old desk.

On one half of the desk, there’s his well-loved constantly-upgraded computer, while the other side is host to his audio set up. In the middle is a weird thing that kind of looks like an old gas lantern like you’d see on the set of an old English Victorian drama or something, and a small strange disk. There’s an unidentified processor attached to it, with metal lines spidering out from it. Around the disc are various tools and instruments.

“Just to confirm.”Seb continues, “We still don’t know what this thing is.”

“Nope.”

“We don’t know where it came from.”

“Not a clue.”

“But we  _do know_  it did this to me.”

Travis points at Seb with the pencil in his hand. “ _That_  we know.”

“And you basically want to poke it with a stick?”

“Look if we’re going to get you back to normal, we have to figure out what it did and how it…converted you. We need data.” He taps the clipboard in his lap. It has a bunch of lined paper on there. “Which is what the clipboard is for.

“And your plan is to poke the doo-hickey with a stick?”

“I wouldn’t quite call it a ‘plan’ so to speak. More a…co-ordinated attempt at winging it.” Seb just raises an eyebrow at Travis who rolls his eyes. “Yes, I’m going to poke the doo-hickey with a stick.”

Seb looks at the enthusiasm on his best friend’s face, the eagerness to learn, and the absolutely maximum preparation for what may happen but given what brought them here, he still isn’t sure he’s feeling it.

“I still have a bad feeling about this.” Seb shrugs.

“Oh would you stop.” Travis turns, running his free hand through his blond hair as he does his best to hide his own apprehension. If he is going to fix his friend, he doesn’t have time to listen to the crippling doubts welling up in his chest. Time a plenty for all that when this is all sorted.

There’s a strange crackle sound, one that Seb feels run through him from head to toe. His seemingly solid form glitches, shifting like a distorted TV image. Once, then again, and then again. He yells, pain ripping through him, Seb bends double, clutching at his stomach as the distortion gets worse.

“SEB?!” Travis stands in a panic as Seb turns to static, form shifting, breaking.

“ **S͝T͘O͞P ͡I̧T!̷ STOP҉!̸** ” Seb screams.

“I’VE NOT-! I’M HAVEN’T-!” Travis backs away from the side and throws the pencil across the room. He hasn’t touched it! He hasn’t done anything!

“ **T͠URN̡ I̕T̷ ǪFF!̨!͘ ̨TƯR̴N̕ IT ͠OFF̢!͢!** ”

Seb’s screams distort even worse, sounding inhuman and digital, like an old analogue TV signal during a thunderstorm, fritzing and glitching, a human barely visible in the middle anymore. The glitch before Travis doesn’t even look like Seb any more. In a panic Travis snatches the disc from the side and presses the only button he’s been able to find on it. The room goes silent. Seb disappears, the air electric with a residual static charge, while the disc slowly flashes with an ominous red light.

After a moment, when the screams have faded, though are still there in his memory, Travis sits down, the disc clutched between his fingers as he stares at it. His heart is pounding and his head is rushing as he tries to figure out what just happened. He flops down onto his desk, disc still clutched tightly in his hand.

“This is all my fault.”


	140. JJ, Marvin, and Anti

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though things may be different, they rarely ever change.

Jameson feels it moments before it happens, like someone passing over his grave. Daniel coughs, once, twice, and the second time there’s blood. JJ panics as he turns, gesturing frantically but the idiot is stubborn, his hand staying raised, power still flowing as he continues to maintain Time Out.

Another cough, more blood. JJ rolls his eyes, wrapping an arm under Daniel’s shoulders, and firmly hitting at the dumbass’s chest. Damn it Daniel! Drop them! They can deal with the Colonel and his twin. Don’t kill yourself over this, you idiot!

The magic stops and Daniel drops, his eyes shuttering closed as JJ catches him. Their legs both buckle, caught a little off guard by the sudden weight, but JJ manages to carefully lower his friend to the floor so they’re both knelt as the Colonel rushes towards them, immediately taking Daniel’s face in his hands and trying to get a response.

Poor Colonel. Daniel is basically his adopted son, not that either of them will admit it, maybe they don’t realise. Of course he’s not just a stand in for Damien, never will be, but JJ isn’t blind, he can see how much they care about each other, how close they are, like father and son. Seeing Wickes like this is probably tearing the Colonel in two.

There’s no clue as to why the hell this happened. It’s not something they’ve encountered before, but the rules change with every new world they’ve passed through, and literally anything could be going wrong. Hell, JJ’s magic may not even work properly but this can’t just go untreated, they  _can’t_ leave him like this!

JJ glances around the room, eyes going wide as he catches sight of someone, pointing at them and frantically gesturing them over.

Marvin blinks while Dark, still on the floor, puts an arm out in front of the magician, gently pushing him back. Protective. Cute but not helpful. The grey man gestures for Bim to step forward instead, but JJ just cuts his hand through the air firmly and points more forcefully at Marvin.

Bim is already stepping forward, rolling up his sleeves when Wilford reaches to stop him, muttering something to Dark, the two of them arguing back and forth in harsh hushed voices. Dark hits Wilford around the head again, mumbling something back but it soon ends, Wilford turning to gesture at Marvin to step forward.

The kid seems nervous, glancing over to Bim who just folds his arms and nods. Dark doesn’t look happy but doesn’t stop him this time.

Barely two steps over, and the air between the groups crackles and splits. A green glitch appearing in the middle, one arm reaching out, pushing at Marvin’s chest, refusing to let him any further forward. He’s been tucked away, watching all this go down and like shit is he letting these weirdos near his brother.

Both JJ and the Colonel stare. JJ’s eyes are fixed on the glitch. This has to be Anti but he doesn’t understand. A glitch? Here?  _Protecting_ someone?! The Colonel’s hand on his shoulder brings him back to himself, the old man nodding towards Marvin and the glitch, before lifting Daniel from JJ’s side and moving to lay him down.

JJ stands, hand shaking. A thousand old memories buried under years of endless fighting rise to the surface. Thoughts and fears so old they might crack just from looking at them, and buried so deep, he’s practically forgotten them. Amongst all of them is him, much younger, much stupider, much more afraid and almost completely alone, stood in front of his bathroom mirror holding a knife. His reflection has one blue eye, and one that is glowing green, his lips drawn up into an unnatural smile that he knows is not his own.

The scar hidden behind JJ’s bowtie itches.

The glitch is trying to talk but the words are distorted and angry. This isn’t the glitch, at least not that one, he reminds himself. This one didn’t do all that. He didn’t nearly kill JJ, or the people JJ loved. And as Marvin grabs hold of Anti’s arm and shouts for him to move out of the way, it seems they are actually…..friends?

Anti glitches, jumping back and forth, but never moving more than a few feet from Marvin, angrily shouting and pointing at JJ. Eventually he stops, stood almost toe-to-toe with the weird newcomer and his bowler hat, glaring at him, with dangerously familiar green eyes that glow, just like  _that_ glitch’s. The two of them stare at each other for a while, and Anti doesn’t understand why this guy isn’t scared. Why doesn’t he blink, or flinch, or back down?

Seconds drag on until JJ reaches up….and flicks Anti on the nose.

Anti blinks….did he….did this guy… Anti’s eyes turn black and he raises a clawed hand about to strike.

“ **I̵'̢͝m̵̛ ̧̛g͞o̵̢͟i̡͢͏ng҉͢ ̷̕t͠o-̛!͜͡** ”

“Pfft…”

Anti stops, turning, eyes still black, arm still raised to see Marvin clutching two hands against his mouth, eyes crinkled as he fights to keep quiet.

“….. **M̕a͡r̶vi͟n?͟** ”

It lasts maybe one more second before Marvin just bursts out laughing. As in full on laughing, snorting, wheezing, the whole thing and he tries not to but he isn’t very successful and eventually gives up just full on laughing at the ridiculousness he just saw.

Dark and Anti share a look. It’s been a while since either of them have seen a  _genuine_ smile on Marvin’s face, let alone heard him laughing. It’s something the two of them had reluctantly agreed to try and work on together, before any of this nonsense went down, but neither of them are exactly rays of sunshine and then things started falling to shit.

When Anti turns back to the mint haired man, JJ gives an exaggerated shrug and his lips quirk into a smile. Part of Anti wants to just tear that look right off his face, the thought of it is very satisfying, but the other part can practically feel Marvin’s laughter reverberating through the air around him.

“F̛i̛n͞e̴.” Anti blinks, his black eyes disappearing but that murderous look is going nowhere. He moves, folding his arms and glaring at this weird mint man, “But ͠s͏o͢ ͟h҉el̶p m͢e ҉i͞f̴ ͝you hu̶rt̡ ͝him…”

JJ gives a two finger salute before reaching a hand towards Marvin. Anti doesn’t move out of the way, he may be letting this happen but that doesn’t mean he has to be helpful. Marvin bites his lip as he takes JJ’s hand, trying not to laugh again.


	141. Healing Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a little faith, you can be capable of great things.

Marvin kneels by Wickes’s left side, while Jackson kneels on  the other. Across the room, Dark and Wilford are still on the floor, subtly holding hands as they watch while Bim stands over them. In front of the group, Anti stands, arms crossed, glaring. William is crouched at Daniel’s head, cradling it in his lap while softly talking to the boy but getting no response. The concern is radiating off of him in waves, and it’s kind of heartbreaking to watch.

Jackson reaches to guide Marvin’s hands so they are held out before him, palms up, like he’s holding a ball. There’s a ripping sound and some aggressive static from behind Marvin. The magician doesn’t have to look, he knows that sound, Anti has glitched closer

If Jackson notices, he doesn’t respond, instead smiling, his moustache quirking up slightly. He shifts his own hands so they are beneath Marvin’s, palms up, barely touching. When Marvin glances up, Jackson makes an exagerrated show of closing his eyes, so Marvin takes the instruction and closes his own. Another pop of static and there’s the sensation of someone stood behind him, watching.

To begin with he doesn’t feel anything, honestly feeling a little stupid and wondering if he’s meant to do something when the tingling creeps across his fingers. It wells up, rising slowly and as Bim has been trying to teach him, Marvin tentatively runs his fingers along the edge of the sensation.

It’s Jackson’s magic and it definitely feels unlike any other Marvin’s ever encountered, almost like it’s been locked away for a long time. It’s kind of stale, worn and weary, burdened, weighed down with who knows what, yet there’s still some bounce to it, some vigour and vibrancy that kind of hints to a better time. If Marvin had to pick a single word, he’d probably go with, nostalgia.

Something sparks and Marvin flinches. Death. Pain. Anger. Unending War. Endless Loss. All of them flit by, Marvin barely able to glimpse them before they’re gone, but Jackson brings him back, gently running his fingertips across the back of Marvin’s hands.

There are no words, probably something Jackson lost a long time ago, but there are feelings, instincts, sensations. No words, but inarguable intent. The wish to heal, to protect, to restore; the  _need_  to see Daniel well again.

Healing is something Marvin can do, a skill gained through necessity in the months….or was it years….of trying to handle Anti on his own. Like they say, practice makes perfect. Self-doubts and uncertainty rise up but Jackson’s fingers are still there grounding him. Confidence flows from them, skittering across Marvin’s skin, raising the small hairs on his arms. Jackson believes in him, but Marvin needs to trust in himself.

Moments pass before the magician focuses, calling on memories of some of those times he’s tried very hard to forget, thinking of all that Bim has managed to teach him, about ‘magical reflexes’, about guiding the magic rather than generating it, about helping rather than hurting. Everything starts to feel electric, tingling running through his body, flowing through him, down his arms into his hands as it sparks.

Blue magic flares around his hands. It’s warm. Familiar. How did he never realise that he missed this feeling? His magic, his power, flowing through him, centered on his hands. He’s too scared to look. Jackson flips both their hands over and slams them down against Wickes’s chest.

The contact hits Marvin like a bolt of lightning and he flinches, eyes shooting open and he shouts. Another crackle of static and Anti is right beside him.

The glitch’s hand is on Marvin’s shoulder, face twisted, clearly fighting the instinct to tear his brother away, but he doesn’t. Barely. The magic flows freely, from Marvin’s hands, disappearing into Wickes’s chest and the color in his face slowly returns.

Jackson watches him closer and William calls Wickes’s name, both of them desperate for a response. It feels like eons before there’s a shifting beneath Marvin’s hands and Daniel gives a laboured groan. Jackson immediately pulls back, and before Marvin has a chance to do the same, Anti has wrapped both arms around his brother from behind and they glitch a few feet away. Marvin has to hold his stomach to keep from vomiting at the strange unnatural movement, but everyone watches with bated breath.

Eyes still closed, Wickes raises his arm, reaching for Jackson who takes the outstretched limb and leans in. Wickes mutters something that none of the witnessing egos can hear but to which Jackson nods. William reaches to pull Wickes’s arm away, gently telling him off for moving when he’s clearly still unwell and the boy doesn’t protest, allowing himself to be guided to a more comfortable upright position. He still looks like he might pass out at any given moment.

Jackson looks to William who nods, the two of them sharing an unspoken understanding as the mint-haired mute stands, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a small glass globe vial. It’s filled with a bottle green liquid that sloshes around as he moves it. Another nod from William and Jackson steps back throwing the bottle to his feet where it smashes, releasing a thick green smoke that rises to consume him. Moments later when it clears, Jackson is gone.

Anti tightens his hold around Marvin’s chest, moving to pull his brother another step away as he growls.

“W̷hy ̡d̸o yo͢u a͝lwa̴y̕s ͢a͜t̢tra͜c̷t  **we̶ird**  ̨pe̸op͠le?̶“


	142. Leave Him Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it takes an old friend to point out the obvious.

One of the Jims is sprawled across Dr Iplier’s legs, while the other is curled up against the doc’s chest, an arm wrapped around him. They tend to gravitate towards whomever they feel is the most capable of protecting them, though the Host doubts it’s a conscious selection. They’ve made a good choice this time around. The doctor will keep them safe.

In the far corner, the Googles are clustered together. Oliver’s head is in the blue Google’s lap, while Green leans against his shoulder. Google’s fingers are gently curled in Oliver’s hair, his other hand gently placed on Oliver’s shoulder. Red is nearby, not as close as the others but his hand is clenched ready to defend should a threat appear. Their eyes are closed, all of them on standby in an attempt to preserve battery. The Googles have a handle of their brother’s condition but they are far from out of the woods.

Ed is snoring up a storm, laid out on the floor, back turned to the rest of the room. He seems to be taking the chaos of the last few days rather in his stride, but then again, Ed has always been a weirdo who more than earned his place at the table in the meetings. Even so, as the token human of the group there should surely be  _something_ getting to him.

King of the Squirrels and Chase are not too far from each other. The two of them seem to be growing closer since their stint in the building. It’s nothing right now, but there’s a future where it blooms, and another where it’s choked until it dies, and unfortunately the Host can’t speak for which one he’s hoping for. After all, a victory, however small, would be nice in this hellhole.

Though the room about him is filled with unconscious thoughts, and a large amount of hatred directed towards him, the Host’s mind is more preoccupied with the chaos happening in the next room. He’s born witness to it all, sat in silence on the floor,. When Jackson comes back with Phantom in his arms, laying the boy down, the Host leaps to his feet and now he just stands. In the dark. In the silence. Almost completely alone.

Almost.

“Please don’t take him.”

His voice is quiet as he speaks to the darkness beside him. Though it takes a human form, the Host only sees a writhing mass of blackness wrapped around a core of pure white light. Delicately balanced, perpetually in motion, staying in place but far from still.

“I’m not here for Phantom.” comes the response.

The voice is feminine, and the Host knows that her human form is just as he remembers it. Slim face, shoulder length wavy brown hair, draped in light and airy robes that billow about her even though there isn’t a breath of wind. Oddly light on her feet, the ground is undisturbed as she passes over it. Both human and inhuman. Her presence has always defied logic but seeing her now, the Host realises how much he and the others truly underestimated her.

“But he’s-”

“Phantom is more than what you made of him. Not even  _you_  could erase that.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To catch up with an old friend.”

“Dark and Wilford are in there.” Half-turning, the Host gestures towards the chaos of the next room. The two idiots are sat close, Marvin and Bim hovering nearby. Chances are they won’t be going anywhere any time soon, and both of them would be delighted to see her after so long. A gentle hand on his cheek makes him jump, the fingers guiding him to turn and look directly at her.

“I’m here to see  _you_ ,” she teases, her fingers brushing against his cheek as she lowers her hand to take his again. “I thought you could use a friend.”

Friend. It would be nice to have one of those. He’s turned all his other supposed friends against him. Even Dr Iplier is avoiding him, which is fine, he can’t force the doc’s hand. No, better that the doctor be prepared for the imminent patient in the other room. Let him rest for now.

“I want to help him.” The facade of the third person is dropped. She hates when he refers to himself that way and frankly, he knows he is safe with her here. The Host glances towards the chaos.

Phantom was originally just an experiment, intended to push the limits of his powers, to see if he could, in fact, create a being. Someone who could walk amongst other living beings and serve a purpose, a function. Phantom was supposed to be the epitome of his greatest achievement and that’s how he remembered the boy being. Smart, covert, able to turn any situation to their advantage, he’d had such high hopes for the dealmaker.

“You shouldn’t.”

“I can fix him!”

“You can  _reset_  him.” her tone is firm. “And you’re the one who did this to him.”

“The Author-”

“You  _are_  the Author. You may have learned wisdom and humility, Julien, but you are every bit the stubborn ass of a man that you’ve always been.  _T_ _his_  Author is just an echo of you at your most dangerous.”

And isn’t that the truth?

For all his attempts to leave that part of him behind, Julien has clung to who he used to be like a life preserver. He made the bat, infused it with his power mere days after Mark betrayed him. After his closest friend, a man he basically considered a brother, used him to resurrect a woman who died years ago, who probably didn’t even love him in the end. Why else would she have tried to run off with Wilford?

Making the bat was a mistake, a desperate attempt by a scared, lonely little man to maintain some poor excuse of control his life. With the bat he didn’t have to deal with Mark, he didn’t have to handle it. Someone else could, someone with the same abilities as him. It would keep him safe….but he never once thought of what it would cost. No matter his reasoning, he should have known nothing but pain and heartbreak could come from facing Mark again.

Despite what the others might see, the Host never meant for anyone to get hurt. He never meant for them to be torn to shreds, their family scattered to the wind. They’ll never believe that though, after all he’s the guy who can ‘see the future’. Except it’s not as simple as that.

“Will Phantom be okay?” His grip on the Lady’s fingers tightens and she gives a reassuring squeeze in return.

“There are bigger plans in motion for him.” She speaks with the confidence that only a Horseperson of the Apocalypse can wield. The kind of confidence that arrogant a-holes like Julien could never even  _dream_  of knowing. He feels her lips quirk in a slight smirk. “Call it Fate.”

He chuckles and the two of them fall into a comfortable silence, hands held in a gentle reassurance. It’s been years since last they met, but even now she exudes calm, grace, and control. Soon enough she’ll have to leave again;; the balance of life and death between all realms of existence can’t be left unwatched for long. However, for a moment, just one small moment, Lady Fate is able to remain. Julien is grateful for her companionship, but hates that, as always, she’s right.

The Host has done enough at this point.

He has to leave Phantom alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lady Fate is an ego of my own creation based off of Amy Nelson (aka Peebles)


End file.
